Her hands, outstretched,
Up towards the perennial sky.
A single snowflake flutters down,
Extracting from her, a sigh.
In life's perennial time,
Death knocks whenever.
Hell is forever-cold,
Or will the ever-lasting winter sever?
Seeing cerise splash in front of her eyes,
She crumples to the floor, helpless.
With the gun pointed at her head,
"You weren't meant to be, Your Highness."
Her remembrance cut short,
She sees that flash of crimson once more.
The thought of blood invades her,
Out of her amber eyes, tears pour.
He wipes them off, embracing her.
"What can I do to warm your freezing heart?"
Despite her frightened demeanor,
From him, she can't bear to part.
In life's perennial time,
Death knocks whenever.
Rain, hail, blizzard, no matter,
Nothing is helpless forever.