The Queen

Sliverless, magical, reckless, divine  
Savoury helpless King  
Merry master met his death  
At the hands of his Queen  
 
The Queen, they say, is venomous  
The Queen, they say, is cruel  
The Queen cares not about her men  
But for the kingdom that’s hers to rule  
 
With a scarlet letter upon her breast  
Her henchman turn a blind eye  
The jester wears the honour best  
When all has gone awry  
 
She waves her sceptre at the populous  
Who gives obeisance to the Queen  
They kneel, though, in retrospect  
They were never living the dream  
 
The Queen will live a lavish life  
With the masses at her beck and call  
They’ll live in chaos, envy, torture and sin  
Until her death can free them all  
 
For now it will remain harrowing  
For every living soul  
A constant reminder that servitude  
Will most certainly take its toll