Post by Icor on Sept 24, 2004 14:47:21 GMT -4
What was it that Lady Moon wrote?
Once a merry one, until strife struck, she will quote,
In the blood that fell from her wrists at the Dawn of Fiveday,
And the words upon the parchment, I recite she will say:
" Dearest members of the Council High, Judges of Old,
It pains me greatly for the troubles so many say I will mold,
With my immoral acts with the Knight under the Praetorian,
Matheticus, you must know, was my true love, though taken:
Our passion was forbidden before we were given chance to profess,
However, apparently as you will take his head, I will confess."
Fortunately for the Council High, the matter was hidden,
Matheticus was dragged to a sacred hill, where his head was ridden,
Lady Moon was to give birth to his child,
Admittedly, the matter had ascended from mild.
"Matheticus will be the father of a son, or daughter,
in the matter of a month, if yet my love has not met your slaughter."
He has indeed, Lady Moon.
Though apparently, as you know not for you will be dead soon,
Simply take your own life,
And end us of your petty strife.
"Simple evil, that is all you are, Council 'High',
I pray I will not become a role model for others whom pass by,
You have every part of my disrespect."
And she has signed it with a tear-stain,
With the company of broken handwriting, apparently with pain.
Seven suns later, a boy finds her body by the desk in a pool of blood,
Sticky and dark having dried over her poor floor of mud.
And do we feel guilt? No.
Too many imbeciles attempt to pass our laws we bestow,
To protect the pointless.
"Lady Moon, caged from love and forever unforgiving"
How tragic, but a temporary stinging.
Now all three must die, but it wasn’t our axe that did the singing.
Once a merry one, until strife struck, she will quote,
In the blood that fell from her wrists at the Dawn of Fiveday,
And the words upon the parchment, I recite she will say:
" Dearest members of the Council High, Judges of Old,
It pains me greatly for the troubles so many say I will mold,
With my immoral acts with the Knight under the Praetorian,
Matheticus, you must know, was my true love, though taken:
Our passion was forbidden before we were given chance to profess,
However, apparently as you will take his head, I will confess."
Fortunately for the Council High, the matter was hidden,
Matheticus was dragged to a sacred hill, where his head was ridden,
Lady Moon was to give birth to his child,
Admittedly, the matter had ascended from mild.
"Matheticus will be the father of a son, or daughter,
in the matter of a month, if yet my love has not met your slaughter."
He has indeed, Lady Moon.
Though apparently, as you know not for you will be dead soon,
Simply take your own life,
And end us of your petty strife.
"Simple evil, that is all you are, Council 'High',
I pray I will not become a role model for others whom pass by,
You have every part of my disrespect."
And she has signed it with a tear-stain,
With the company of broken handwriting, apparently with pain.
Seven suns later, a boy finds her body by the desk in a pool of blood,
Sticky and dark having dried over her poor floor of mud.
And do we feel guilt? No.
Too many imbeciles attempt to pass our laws we bestow,
To protect the pointless.
"Lady Moon, caged from love and forever unforgiving"
How tragic, but a temporary stinging.
Now all three must die, but it wasn’t our axe that did the singing.
), and is found out because she is, in fact, pregnant with child. The heartless 'Council' then uses their law to kill them, and she has an hour and ten minuets to write her last words on a sheet of parchment before gaurds tear her from her poor home and drag her to the execution. Unfortunatly for the council, her deary is a Knight of the Crown - all people being bound by the law, he was forced into demise. Due to public opinion, the council decided to keep it secret, making them less or more frightening decidable by the reader ( you ;D ). Regretably, it took me no time at all to figure this plot out (As it was my dearest younger brother who preached it out to me), and yet took about five hours to get the words right (Bleh. It's still written drably. 
).