5/8/18
My mind is a castle.
It has empty rooms and halls covered in dust.
Empty rooms full of boxes of nonsensical things.
The rooms being used are grand.
And as they are grand, they are grandly decorated.
Intricate designs paint the walls,
And soft fabrics contrast
The cold starkness of the color
Gold.
The grandest room in the castle is the entrance throne room.
In the center of the room stands a golden throne,
Adorned with real royal red.
Upon the throne sits a Her Royal Majesty.
A drawn on smile ,
Making her perfect face more stunning
Her eyes holding Galaxies.
Her dress lightly caressing her skin,
Moving as if a part of her.
Purple silk lined with royal Gold
Accenting her rosy tone.
Her hair thick and brown
Cascades so beautifully down
To only inches from the ground.
In comes in her Guest.
She stands and welcomes in earnest.
Gesturing to the grandeur of the room,
Naming famous paintings,
Patiently waiting.
Down the steps she comes
As her guest bows to her presence.
"Stand, my merriman, let us be thick as thieves.
Let yourself be equal mine, and let your voice speak free.
Rid yourself of the misconception of Your Majesty."
Her guest does stand but only speaks when asked.
Proper etiquette is hard to find and finds it hard to give way.
Eventually the Queen's left in peace.
So she falls helplessly to the ground.
The transformation quick and swift,
Soon as she lands.
Her feet bare and muddied,
Scars abraising her skin.
Her dress, brown, in tatters,
And her eye's falling dull,
The stars in her eyes
Clouded by the hate she hides.
Her hair greasy and tangled,
Twiggs here and there.
Her crown on her head
No longer Gold,
Made of stick and stone.
Her Crown falls
Ever so slowly to the ground,
As her knees hit the marble.
In the mirror she sees her form,
Slowly takes off her mask.
That drawn on smile,
A smile she never had.
A smile that would never last.
Alone in her castle,
And thus yet am I.
The castle in my mind,
That's where I hide,
With the Queen with Galaxies in her Eyes.
