she dressed my wound,
by ripping her dress,
healing my bloodly mess,
she sighed,
but keeping in mind,
that i would need a better bind,
she did what she could,
if only i surrendered,
if only i was wiser,
but my choice was sound,
i could be ever be proud,
that i followed my beating heart.
my name is thron,
hers rose,
now you tell me:
A rose is nothing without a thron.