Long live the Queen,

The most gorgeous you have seen.

With emerald eyes, porcelain skin,

And a wide, pearly grin,

She is the iron ruler of this land.

No man, no woman, nor child,

Dares cross her path,

For fear of her terrible wrath.

A false façade, a welcoming mask,

"Join me for a meal, " kindly asks.

Turn your back,

And the monster attacks.

You know her aim is true

When her silver knife goes through you.

Countless go missing from the wicked mistress.

Manipulating words make her our bloody Queen.

Lands once green,

No longer produce;

Another side of humanity is let loose.

Men are set against each other in a battle no one can win.

Finally, eyes begin to open.

Famished,

Impoverished,

The people turn their blades from each other to the castle.

For the satisfied Queen, food is no hassle.

Chants of the dying rise up in wells.

"March, march, march.

Against the absolute.

March, march, march.

Her withheld riches, we must loot."

Out the window looks the confident Queen,

At her soldiers in armor that gleams.

Down they bow,

Explaining how

The peasants plotted to revolt.

Now, frightened is the Queen,

As she had ever been.

Inside the palace, she orders her troops,

Unaware they are part of the coup.

She begs for their protection.

The gate is lowered,

Letting the liars enter.

The peasants grab her.

Trickery unforeseen

Is the downfall of the helpless Queen.

Locked in her chamber,

The tyrant watches the ravenous fools

Dash to the kitchen, dripping drool.

In the cellar, mountains of meat are stored.

Excited, their stomachs roar.

From her cell,

The snickering Queen watches as a feast is held.

Devouring meat cooked and dressed in every way,

They eat for several days.

On the last, they are again without food.

Cackling, the weaker Queen,

Much more lean

Than the time before,

Shouts from behind her chamber door;

Words combine no one cared to explore.

"Food was short for royalty too.

To my dismay, I had to improvise.

Akin to the job of flies,

I consumed the flesh of your dead.

That is the meat upon which you fed."

No longer weighed down by hunger,

The people weep.

Into their hearts, anger creeps.

Eating their family is an act they did not mean.

No, it is the fault of the tricky Queen!

They smash down the barrier

And pin her

To the ornate bed.

In one blow, to the floor rolls her head.

However, her death did not change the peoples' predicament.

Once a ruler, she no longer stands.

Towards the sky,

Stare her glassy eyes.

The swirls and splatter of blood are an artful scene.

Long live the Queen.