I loved a Princess
Her golden hair and perfect eyes
Called me from my slumber
From my dreams
For here she was, so golden and perfect
And I was there, so tired and burdened
I could not lift a hand to call to her
She called me with her voice
Again and again
But I could not reply
It was not a choice
It was a debt of honor one makes
To carry a banner of the queen
To so is a privilege not a curse
To desire another would not do
And to leave would make things worse
I burn in the memory of that debt
For it can not be paid
And I am filled with regret
Forever since
My heart wounded
And the ravens call me
Through the cold rain
For my soul died a little
And they see through
My being
For I am hollowed from the pain
