It is a sad tale,
the one they tell,
of Sakura
the little girl.
Sakura.
who took on the bruises for her mother
and just dance on those ungainly stalks
before a prince, Sasuke,
of the kindom.
He betrayed her;
they always do.
Her arms around him
meant little to him.
Her lips on his
he thought cold,
brief and cold as the touch of a the wind.
He betrayed her, they always do, left her to find
her way back home
over thousands of land miles,
only salt her tears,
She broke. Ran she did.
She ran far and wide.
Away from this forsaken place.
Away from the prince who cause the pain she feels.
She runs fr and wide for happiness.
She cries for those who can not do for themselves.
