Blindfolded
and bound beneath
their pointed swords
she saw no better choice
than to have no part 
of their wretched game,
the bloody knives
and tainted coins
all their clanging,
clashing, banging,
bashing—all while
the red river ran
through time, taking 
with it the father's own child
clothed by the sun and innocent.

The dragon, red, relentless
in his pursuit
of her pure character
loosed upon the land
cutting off the hand
reaching for food
hungry for love.
As skies turn green,
no hope is seen.
On the red field
the left and the right
keep up their fight
and nobody sees her there,
her heart battered, broken, laid bare.