exiled

I stand at brink
of sweet city of love
where I belong,
I long
To be home
I long to be held
in beloved's arms.
It is guarded well however
by soldiers who are
of my very own;
without siren or bugle to warn
they hurl to hurt;
wounded I stand alone
to face arrows and darts
of judgement
that sting at heart
How do i hit back
or retaliate,
knowing full well
that with my Prince on retreat
having signed Royal decree
that I'm ransom
for treasures he seeks
I am consigned forever
to the outskirts
of the city that I love.