A war that's been raging since the dawn of time,
Two men, two ego's, pride, blood and wine,
Caught in the Cross Fire to claim her mine.

Knock down burning door, walk through the fire,
Flames will not burn loves burning desire,
For truth will shine through this master of liar.

Woman.... the balance, the equal of both,
One truly loves her, the other a ghost,
A trophy, a possession, a winner with most,

Toys in the end, is said to win the game,
So blinded by winning, two ego's with shame,
A woman torn, only to change her last name.

Enough shouts battered woman, Can you not see?
Men do the picking, but it is woman who choose thee,
Women choose true love to set her soul free.

Savage competition, woman bleeds in vain,
Animals, beasts, a virgin heart slain,
Can the ego not feel this woman's pain?

This is not woman's war, yet she's delt misery,
A fate worse than death plagued by ego's insecurity,
Reject these ego's, swollen ignite war fury,

A fury that will burn across the land,
And across the sea, the tides of hand,
Lest these ego's learn to become a man.

And swallow their pride long enough to draw breath,
The cradle of life with-in woman's breast,
The ego cannot accept beyond power of quest,

The desire to be king, one who will have no queen,
Blinded by arrogance, these eyes so green,
Consumed by conquering, cannot hear her scream.

Will end with nothing to claim as his own,
Will not know what hit him until all alone,
While he parish on thy cold and empty throne.

Will not understand, had the world in his hands,
Until heroine woman took a stand,
And left thy king of no man's land,

Only then will understand, what is in a name,
That thy male ego left in vane,
The spanish flower plucked from spain.

Written by Donna Preece April 2008,
in honor of Anne Hathaway the Legacy,
All rights reserved