Thorns of the Silent Witness

In shadowed halls, I hid unseen,

By a cracked door where fate convened.

A simple maid, yet ears betray

A whispered plot that breeds dismay.

Words of rebellion, bitter, stark,

Carve into night their dreadful mark.

Nobles conspire with cold intent,

On a throne’s future, cruelly bent.

Roses red and white, symbols of divide,

In their names, kinship set aside.

A land to be torn by ambition's thorn,

A realm's peace, cruelly shorn.

Heart racing, I flee from the ominous scene,

Carrying the burden of what I've gleaned.

Dread seeps into my every pore,

As I foresee, the nation's core tore.

By morning's light, the whispers turn real,

Swords unsheathed, for the crown they zeal.

A kingdom fractured under the rose's curse,

Into a war, brutal and terse.

And so, from the shadows, I watched it unfold,

The dark saga of power, cruel and bold.

In the War of the Roses, history bleeds,

A witness I stand as my heart grieves.

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