Enchanted she the girl with scars upon her face, Restless though her soul might be, she still the light will chase.

Her eyes tell far more than her mouth could ever say, she sees things for how they truly are and still she heeds the day.

No soul, no rhyme or reason, can change the girl for worse. She knows too much about the world to believe in such a curse.

Still she walks with heart, and a light upon her chest, A target seen as some, but a warrior to the rest.

With her shield down by her hip, this girl she walks along, knowing it may invite more pain but feels to hide is wrong.

This girl she is enchanted, like a corpse back from the grave. She's weathered the weather, war and famine, and still feels as though she's not brave.

So why does this girl enchanted walk with such a heavy heart? The dichotomy of...