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The Lamb
In the Holy Land, a boy lived, a farmer by trade His lamb, Anor, his constant aide Unusual she was, compared to the rest But beauty in differences, he always professed
Lady Inaya, a vision in sight Admiring her from afar, he took flight From his vow made, years ago To never speak to a woman, he did so
Beaten and taken to the dark zone Frightened by a tall figure, all alone His sickle taken, his lamb in fear Crying and screaming, his heart full of tears
Years passed, desires grew within Eyes of rage, staring at ladies akin To Lady Elizabeth, Lady Ane, and Lady Fashia He scared and laughed with a wicked hand
Following Princess Farrah, he attempted to scare But the royal guards caught him, his fate to bear A grim smile on his face, happy he'll be fed For soon he'll be reunited with Anor, his lamb, in the land of the dead.
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This is poetry to a much longer and detailed story which I have been thinking about writing.