When the Norse came
There were no defenders
The bravest men fled
The bravest woman slain
But she lived in the periphery
An enigma of the greatest sort
Filled with a powerful mind unknown
A person of honor, beauty, and worth
As her home and land burned
Dropping a veil of ashes as if snow
The white and soot fell around her
Close, attendant like a wedding train
In a state of shock, innocent and naive
Her beauty was thought by the others
To be very great, the highest form
Instead of honor though
She was repulsed
Feeling beauty is a gift
But the mind something more
No one knows why it is so
But beauty is valued more than the brain
And as attention gathers and covers
It smothers your ability to be warned
People steal, demand, coerce and take
All you have, or own, or would want
Leaving you with nothing
Except the feelings that haunt
After such a fire
All that's left is burnt land
Hidden beneath a veil of ash
What you wouldn't give, they'd take
They'll destroy your home, kill you
Telling you how beautiful you are
They'll tell you they love you
Tell you how important you are
And leave you nothing but scars
Abandoned by all to suffer
Despite worth that burns to the core
"On some preference esteem is based;
To esteem everything is to esteem nothing."
Moliere
