Standing all alone,
no one to hear her pain,
She cried out to a god,
a god no one ever knew.

The gift he gave was a blessing,
a curse in disguise,
her once soft feathers covered,
with gleaming mithral-tide

Her skin no longer flesh, soft and yeilding
now in place are scales, hard and strong
Lifting her head to look above, her eyes no longer round,
thin slits of ebony and centers of scalding white

Hard lines and stone replace,what once was soft and curved
and a voice once which rivaled angels,
now rivals deaths own call,
Emotions overpower us all

H

Penned by my hand on the 17th of Aeguary, in the year 243 AF.