The Mad Queen

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: August 18, 2018

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Submitted: August 18, 2018

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The light from the sage burns me as I set out to write my truth.
 
If I am my future ancestors and history favors the conquorors then let me rewrite history with pen and paper, since my actions don't mean shit.
 
 
The contradiction;
This was inside,
This war.
Between feelings
Words said
And actions unspoken
Broken promises
Truths told on ashes
Of lies that secretly smoldered to cinders
Behind smiles 
And enemy lines
Plans and strategy
Subconscious and self fulfilling prophecy
 
Let it be known
 
That she was a Queen 
That abused her power
As oppressor as she tried to suppress
The peasants that cried out
Poverty!
For love and
Famine!
For gratitude
And self care
Because
Who has time for peasants
When the walls of her palace were lined with gold
And her crown
Of jewels 
From the sweat of a love
That was never good enough
Because it was too good for her to see.
 
Let it be known.
 
That she was a Priestess; 
And her spells 
Manipulative.
Her greatest 
And most effective
She cast on herself.
Because,
Who needs the inconvenience
Of self reflection
When summoning the gods.
 
To do her bidding;
They smiled.
And sent her reflections of herself 
As a practical joke
To remind her
That "we don't work for you"
When will you get it child
When the last starving child 
Drops dead
And you are forced to use a jewel
From your crown
As payment for a funeral
As another casualty is taken
In the name of 
"Learning from my mistakes"
And sage
Used to lighten his body
To go to heaven
But really
You have no guarantee
Of anything
Because
Not even you have been to the other side
That you so desperately speak of
And seek help from
When you fuck up.
 
Let it be known.
 
That she was a child
Fatherless
But afraid of her power
And so
She swallowed the swords
Of her soldiers
Hoping her tongue
Would be cut out
To silence her truth 
As she critized the faults of her enemies
While her robes dripped with blood
As she broke the hearts of all in her court 
And all the King's horses
And all the King's men
Could never put the pieces back together again.
 
But even in her chaos
There was beauty
Even in her madness
Inherited from a King unfit to be a father
There was compassion.
For her mistakes
And
Upon further deliberation with her court
She lowered the taxes
And graciously
Handed over her crown
Now chipped and broken.
But she kept her posture straight
As she walked graciously into exile
Becuase
Let it be known
That she was a Warrior
And maybe one day
She will win the biggest war of all
And come back a victor
A hero
And will sit at the round table
And laugh
Not as Queen
As Conqueror.
- the fall of an empire


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