She was a rose.
Because beneath her youthful red petals
There lay a million thorns.
When Paris held her at night,
And Cupid watched from Aphrodite’s side,
Helen wept.
Her fair tear-stained face possessed
A different kind of love for those she had left behind,
Her lovely daughter for instance.
And the bloodshed around her was ravenous.
Taking apart families just like she had done.
Paris loved her.
But her love was poison to all who loved her.
Thus, he died from Cupid’s arrow.
And Helen remained lovely.
Her thorns had found yet another victim.
But this time, the victim possessed more than one soul.
Troy was dead.
And so were all who loved Troy.