She was once as delicate as
an orchid, a long time ago.
Now she was dying, salvation
far beyond the hope of this
faded flower that became a
whore for the need of her
country.
Many was the note passed on
about those enemies, political
and others. She became bitter
and skeptical that any man was
capable of having a heart.
She had lost the notion of love
a long time ago.
Hands dressed her in her finest
dress and painted her face to
give the illusion that life
was still present. They lowered
her into her cold grave and none
know the true story of the service
she had provided. Of how she
helped the King keep his throne.
To them she was just a faded
whore.
Author notes
This poem is loosly (no pun intended) on the life of all the Mata Hari's that served their country.
Written August 3rd, 2006
In a list
What did you think
Comments
-
This was wonderful, a very sad tale but written beautifully...amazing write, keep up the great work, and good luck in my contest!
<333 Niccy
Adding your comment:
