Vision Of Escaflowne Fan Fiction ❯ Requiem for the Tragic Soldier/Butterfly ❯ Chapter 1

[ P - Pre-Teen ]

Requiem for the Tragic Soldier/Butterfly
By Julie-chan

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This poem is about Dilandau, Cerena, and the Slayers. It contains spoilers, if you can even understand it enough to get that deep. =P I don't know if this makes sense to other people or not (my best friend said "in her own twisted little mind she understood it." =P). Feedback is appreciated. *hint, hint* I don't own Escaflowne. I like this poem. ^_^

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The fifteen children time forgot
Trail blindly fate's chosen lot:
Burning cities, burning dragons, slay the burning king.
His sword will never be so clean.

The fifteen children love left alone
Adore only one no more grown--
A boy who's not a boy, not near a man--
Loved as only tragic soldiers can.

Blackness and liquid mercury, please catch them as they fall,
Fifteen tragic soldiers retreating from it all.
They left this world so very soon,
Watch souls fly up towards that phantom moon...
Forgive, forgive, oh tragic children,
Opening old wounds should be a sin.

The fifteen children life abandoned,
Negligence born and suffering branded,
Meet death with blood like roses tumbling through a waterfall.
Boy who's not a boy, watch them fall.

The fifteen children uncared for,
But by one boy forced to watch that war,
Their last pain, in his always dreams.
A scarred heart bursts apart at the sword-cut seams.

Ah, flutter-by, butterfly,
Tears can't bring the long-dead home.
Ah, just sigh, don't ever cry,
Don't remember these children or their moans.

The fifteen children who chase dragons,
Fanciful dreams of childhood ripped so ragged,
Twisted into something else and slightly wrong.
Ignore the nightingale's desperate song.

One child from which memory fled,
A child who's not a child but a different thing instead;
Watch that pretty insect as it flits away,
That fleeting freedom crushed in small, pale hands that day.

Red kiss of death, orange lick of flame, leave them now alone;
Such tragic soldiers, see what they've reaped and sown.
Sing that requiem, butterfly:
You don't have a tongue and so you'll die.
Forget, forget, those tragic children,
Forget but by the fleeting pen.

Ah, flutter-by, butterfly,
But freedom was never really yours.
Ah, just sigh, live this lie,
Learn to endure the soul-bound sores.

Fifteen children and that loathsome thing--
Just rub the wound to help it sting,
You can't forget if it hurts, so try.
It may tingle but you'll never cry.

Blank eyes filled with liquid mercury, please catch them...
Tragic soldiers are born to fall, so, just don't condemn.
They left this world so very soon,
Watch hearts smash into that phantom moon.
Sing, sing, of tragic children,
And watch knights catch red butterflies again.

The fifteen children time forgot
Follow faithfully fate's chosen lot:
Burn down cities, impale dragons, then slay the burning king...
His soul can never be so clean.