Part II: The Flower

The eldest of the trio

And the youngest of soul,

The sole girl to reach the stars

Along with her brothers-at-arms.

A legendary woman

Started as a girl

Too kind and sensitive

For the battle before her.

.

Her intelligence was stellar,

Always beyond her age

And she wore it proud

On her brow

But she was downtrodden,

Her head was bowed,

To learn her pride misplaced.

For others made sure

That she knew her place

.

Strength soon rose

Within her chest

A new path she chose

Far from the rest

Inspired by a best friend

And later best rival before friend again.

She gave her pride back again.

.

And though bloody it made

Her fists and her knees

Her eyes of hard jade

Assured her terror eased

And though books

Were her sole skill

They assured crooks

She wouldn't easily kill

.

So since young

She carved her own path

Not always certain in mind, but steady she went

Until she met her brothers

Not of blood

At a tender age

And she forgot.

.

Forgot to love herself,

Selfish she became,

And loved them so fiercely

They who lost themselves,

In their own loss.

She gave them all she had

She forgot her strength,

Of her own heart

But it was okay

Because they had her back

.

Or so she selfishly thought.

.

She loved them both,

The Moon and the Sun,

But it was the first

Who stole her heart

In the darkness he ruled.

And for years selfishly,

She thought

That he would love her back

Because she became what he wanted

At her own cost.

.

Or so she thought.

.

But he turned her away

Even as she begged

And she opened her red eyes

And only through pain

Did she realize

How weak she was,

How useless she was.

It was the beginning

Of her personal torment

.

Her burden soon became clear:

To expose her soul,

So tender and innocent,

To expose her heart,

So soft and giving,

Expose them both to the brutality of

The life she chose

(Her choice)

To let it strengthen her

As the agony of being left behind,

At the knowledge of her weakness

Consumed her mind

And haunted her

For the rest of her life

Even as a legend she became.

.

Annoying.

.

But she would no longer wilt,

Never again.

Her own self she would built

She would give strength to her name.

The vain beauty she sought

She would discard,

It was all for nought

And though it was hard

Set her petals to the breeze

And it was then

That she found her release

.

As she bled, body and soul, for those

Who her comrades became

For the path she herself chose

Was to share their pain

As she clawed her way

To their side again

.

Thus was the bloody

Fate that tied them.

.

Three of a kind.