Fighting

Once upon a time, there was a woman warrior who thought better of herself, as the capricious summer and winter passed in a calming cycle, as she transitioned from toys and dolls to books and pens. Ambition fuelled her battle cry as she wielded her sword and shield into the battlefield of wits, and time and time again she held the skulls of the defeated, laughing inebriated by mad triumph, as she left red marks on the white flags of the weak, never quashed. Alas, the night was to come when the  chilling winds were to whip her like a conflicted lover, leaving battle scars that would last her a lifetime. She would see that she was merely one of many, a warrior that has seen little blood, and she would finally see red. Bittersweet defeat in warfare as she saw the clashing and clicking of cannons, swords that have seen nothing but bloodlust. She could only sit and watch as everyone else trampled over crushed skulls wearing business suits and she was still a mere child.