Because my friend demanded a happy ending and this is how happy I could get:
#The Flamed.
You begin one which is all love and flames,
A cheery story to warm hearts as tales,
This tale about the girl who walked through flames,
She came out alive, lived to tell the tale.
So sad for her, one day she was waylaid,
A group of men hornier than dogs in heat,
Tore her up, tore her up like meat,
Bleeding, bruised and scarred, they left her to die
But she was one who had walked the flames,
She couldn't just lie down, give up the game.
So began the true story of the flames,
It was one of a girl who'd been thrown out in shame,
She had sold her body, all for love,
Came back with a child, they say, cursed from above.
They told her she should walk through fire,
Because the child was to blame,
For how could she of the skin fair,
Come back with a child, black as hell?
She cried and told her story
But no one would dare to hear,
For how dare they hear with the child from hell
Hanging on to his mother dear?
The child was dark, black as night,
With hair as red as blood,
His fingernails were yellow and teeth were edged
Like nail points to bite and kill.
The fear of him grew stronger and stronger,
The child avoided the sun,
Well-wishers in disguise, they thought up a plan,
Let her walk the flames of truth and tell
Her story to all, man and woman alike,
Children even if they wish,
But only if she survives may she stay,
The child shall go with her.
Plan set into motion, the girl had no choice,
When path was set on fire,
She hugged her son tight,
Whispered three words and then gathered him close,
She walked through the path, her eyes closed,
Her mouth reciting stories from old,
Of a beautiful man who waylaid her with love,
While she was on fire and walking through earthly hell.
The beautiful man turned out to be a demon,
And maybe her child is demon spawn,
But abandon him, she will not,
And out she walked, unscathed.
But alas, for her, for everyone,
The child had disappeared.
She screamed all night through,
Tore out her hair,
Ripped off her clothes,
All in pure despair,
When she got up on her feet,
She walked away,
Searching for her child and
The man who had led her astray.
That was when the men waylaid her,
Ripped her up and bruised her,
But she was still burning, nursing her wounds,
Her small body threw out flames and they died.
Where is the love and cheer you ask?
Well dear lady, that was only a false mask.
Courage arises out of fear and hatred,
We admire what we ourselves dare not test.
So this is the story of the girl,
She walked the flames and survived,
She found her child, she made a life,
All on her own, she was a soul that lived right.
- People lie, cheat, deceive, molest...but in the end, how you hold up is what matters, isn't it? Not what they did or will do. But how you face up to the ones who wish to see your will broken and eyes defeated. How you say that one word, NO.
