It was then that he bowed down to his new queen.
He realized his old queen was dead and gone.
The women he bowed to was no longer the woman he loved.
She reflected his unloyalty.
Magic mirror on the wall.
I don’t need you to tell me I am the fairest of the them all.
For I bled for him when he bled for me.
I killed for him when he killed for me.
Now in his arms I stab him in the back as he is doing to me.
Telling me I’m nothing more than the string of my seams.
I’m all fabricated into this lie,
that I’m the ugliest when I take pride.
I’m a descended angel from a fallen queen,
I’m nothing but Babylon’s beast.
A beast of harlot he called me.
Only death knows I.
Only I know death.
We kissed and slept in the same bed.
Death loved me for I was his life.
I loved death for he was my knife.
Together we ruled a world of black and white.
Death was dead.
I was alive.
I realized I would never be a dead man’s wife.
YOU ARE READING
Unniched.
Poetry"Unniched" is not bound by themes or constraints; rather, it thrives in the randomness of inspiration. These poems are a mosaic of emotions, thoughts, and observations, woven together by the thread of randomness that knows no boundaries. As you flip...
