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