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Rated: · Article · Mythology · #682353
this is the story of a modern day cassandra who suspects her own prodigy.


Little Cassey they called bastard lass
How sweet, how lovely, how pure she was
With stars in eyes she scampered high
Recalling Late Ma’s ‘Never Lie’
She was the town’s children’s chief
Her words for all would mean belief
Her innocence brought her love and fame
How pretty she was growing a dame
As spread her prodigy longer still
They made their fate what she would will
Her words were seen the Angel’s light
Her wrong was wrong her right was right
Then starting from just a petty joke
The demon of doubt slowly woke
Posing if people’s right was so
Wondering how they ever could know
Big and small they told them lies
They took her words with blind eyes
And when she said she wasn’t right
All she got was somber quiet
No way she saw except to do
Whatever would make her lies true
Ending in tears every night
Facing the music bringing plight
One evening she took a jolly lad
They all watched as she called him dead
They did believe and questioned life
Throwing her in the utmost strife
She failed her will to drown them dead
And they won’t let her die instead
In chilling cold and stormy rain
She fled and was never seen again









© Copyright 2003 ernest dempsey (earnest at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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