The Day Midwinter Bleak Became—Glance of The Bastard Sword

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 Judas Priest “Blood Red Skies”

The bastard sword was plunged
Into the heart of the brave
Such could never hope to be undone
For this uninvited body blow had blotted out the sun
A once delighted course was well-nigh run
Unspoken oath had been betrayed
Poison tongue thrust deep the blade
Bled the leaves from cedar lane
And hence, midwinter bleak became

They painted him black
They painted him blue
They made him a monster
Betrayed their own truth
Bound by bled decree to be the villain of the piece
The kind of deadly freak to keep on leash
Friends don’t call friends predators
True friends request no evidence
That we are who we claim to be
And downright unashamedly
Love is all gristle when tough
Roses bear thistles when forcibly touched
Some of us are different from the others in the flock
Doesn’t make us monsters
Doesn’t mean we should be docked
Doesn’t mean we bear a grudge when shield to club we block
Often it’s the one remaining way to say “enough”

They painted him black
They painted him blue
They made him a monster
One cold to the touch
And perhaps this explains why the braveheart so calmly withdrew
Deep down they knew of the truth to his flame
Knew the collude to each slew of disdain
Making him a monster may have fringed on inhumane
But such is simply how some children play
Tag! You’re it!
Now let’s all run away
Listen close and you may hear his heart scream as it breaks
Something more to hate equates to something less to love
Often it’s the one remaining way to say “enough”

The bastard sword was plunged
Into the heart of the brave
Bled the leaves from cedar lane
Of whence, midwinter bleak became
Yet, he was no longer so cold to the touch
The glaze of his flame said as much
They may have made him monster
And it only takes one pain to be too much
But still this monster favoured love
Even when he chose to say “enough”
Such was simply nature of the beast
The kind of freak unique enough to keep

Richard Charles Stevens

Keeper of The Crimson Quill

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