Been reading a lot of fantasy lately. Nearly done with the final published book of the series A Song of Ice and Fire by George RR Martin. Its soo bad I loove it. Helps me dream every tired night. Reminds me what a slut I am for cheap thrills. Inspired me to write a poem (ooooh), or try to atleast.

Ygritte’s Last Song
Bastard born in a secret
lose that shadow cloak you wear so heavy.
Come to me in a wildling dream
where no walls guard the freedom of the free.
Winter has come,
the pack will survive while the lone wolf dies.
Find the luck you need kissed by fire
your honour can wait, now warmth must suffice.
Turncloak, twice
don't turn in what you stole with death.
It is yours to keep, not to lose
so tame your spurs and forget your fate.
Morning breaks and
we war till the end, for us no bard shall sing.
But I’ll sing to you with your arrow in my chest
You know nothing Jon Snow, you know nothing.

In other news Wayne Rooney hit the net four times to dethrone Arsenal and more importantly tommorrow is a holiday.