A/N: Hey, so this is just a short little poemfic on Lydia being a banshee. Honestly, I can't believe I didn't realize it before with all of her screaming every five seconds, and I'm glad that she isn't something really stupid...not that a banshee is reasonable either, cuz hey, we haven't had enough random mythical creatures running around, let's add in another shall we?

But anyway, I haven't written a fic for this fandom in a lonnnggg time, like back in the day when there weren't even 300 fics for this show and now there are over 8,000!? Way to go fandom. That is impressive! I just wrote this because there didn't seem to be much Lydia love out there and she's my new favorite character, replacing Allison after she took some psycho pills and went off the crazy train, and second only to Peter cuz I love the manipulative bastard :)

But again, sidetracked...please enjoy this poem that rather metaphorically speaks about Lydia's troubles and the chaos around her. Reviews/feedback of any kind is lovely!


Banshee

The Wailing Woman sings her song

A sad and mournful dirge,

Across the hills and down the dales

To another amongst the purge.

Fifteen cries now hit their peaks

The loudest and the last,

All five knots are now complete

Limitations far surpassed.

All strained and broken in battle

And wearied and worn from war,

The tides are turning in faster

They have come to settle the score.

With eyes that burn like fire

They color the sky in blood,

With intentions to ravage their sanity

And leave their banks to flood.

But the sound of her song carries

Across the hallowed ground,

Over all the ones still keeping

And the ones who think they sleep sound.

She wishes to do much more than chant

While those she love meet demise,

For songs alone are not enough to aide

Only death can spawn from her cries.

Naught a warrior, nor a wise man

The name they donned her was idle,

For this was who she really was

The Woman Who Knew Too Little.