subtle grays

let me take you straight to war, a town near northern Italy

lived a singer from hadria, screamed whispers in the alleys

cobblestone streets beneath the golden sun rays

were shadows cast in subtle grays and smiles that betray

the townsmen ignored cassandra's warning

and so she said to the soloist much to her chagrin,

"oh did you think you were pulling the strings?

you're the trojan horse being used by the greek mayor" I scream

"It's an amusement for his métier, his pleasure

didn't you read the scripture? 

it says you're the one who worships not for god,

but to show off"

then the residents have a party on their block 

of three or twenty, and she got her spot

was this town just a refuge, a temporary rest,

until she found what she loved best?

she weaved a domino structure of tangled lies,

through her libretto, in webs spun so fine

laughed away and stung in the best way

then the townsmen remembered what cassandra had to say

"should have known whеn you were acting out,

so here's a silent toast, to a whispered vow

you crossed the line, but at least you're spoken for

or is it also a fraud you planned to perform?"

this poem consummates before the war ends

but the townswoman conclusively said,

"have your puny pyrrhic victory talk, 

I'll take the martial valor, and walk"