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Leaving on The Red Hill, the Stray departs
Singing a Dirge, Requiem for his soul
Through a gruesome scene, and bloody ramparts
Visions of Flame etched in mind take their toll

The Little Flower lost in the night's storm
Paradise wrecked swiftly, an unseen case
Stranger shrouded in black upset this norm
Preciousness and grace reduced and displaced

Pilgrimage is made through snow covered lands
The Silver River followed till its end
In search of villains, harshness he withstands
For to the Abyss is where he will send

A somber nod towards those less fortunate
For common is the Dark Reaper's ballot

Author's Note

I wrote this when I was almost 19 years of age, and at that time probably considered this one of my better works. I make reference, throughout the poem, to a specific "tale" which is the source of my inspiration, the references themselves lending melodic elegance to this very structured piece. See if you can figure out my source material, and if you do, feel free to indulge oneself.