Shackles of war

An old seed of a plot I had time ago.

Long before the man existed
to walk the Earth evolving, learning,
an item - cursed, corrupted, twisted
locked away a passion burning.

Twin circles, time-agglutinated,
by the hands of Chaos forged,
grim purple bind " illuminated
left the lands completely scorched.

A single goddess, held imprisoned -
victim of this tyranny
struggled but in truth there isn't
way out from this irony.

Ages passed, eons shifted,
kins and kingdoms rose and fell,
but the curse was never lifted,
the mistress, lone in darkness dwelt.

A lake of tears she did shed,
but all resistance was in vain,
her biggest fears to nowhere led
except to depths of gripping pain.

The true purpose of wearing these
is to start an endless rove
and never hope to be released
until you kill the one you love.

Author's Note

Any critic is welcomed.

Reviews

[Sundar Momin]

brother your poem is very nice.
about my poem you can give any advice.

[~]

Wheww, nicely dark yet has such a great flow and rhyme, loved the plot and story like feel to this poem. Very well done.

[elvenom]

Thank you for your kind words! It means a lot to me!