pen strokes the page, creating the scene
Mighty warriors, wielding swords, viciously clash
Their lives, their deaths, already foreseen
 
Picture this, a deep, narrow ravine
Then, should it all disappear into a cloud of ash?
The pen strokes the page, creating the scene
 
The characters, so perfect, so clean
So the reader’s hearts stop when they are gone in a flash
Their lives, their deaths, already foreseen
 
A young princess of age fifteen
So young, so beautiful, so brash
The pen strokes the page, creating the scene
 
Yet, even she cannot escape her routine
A destined lover enters, bearing a foreigners sash
Their lives, their deaths, already foreseen
 
Once again, the author appears, eyes keen
Ready to create, and make words clash
The pen strokes the page, creating the scene
Their lives, their deaths, already foreseen