Enjoy my minor attempts at Poetry. Keep in mind, I haven’t written anything poetic since highschool. You’ll quickly see why.
A precarious thing, a Queen becomes;
She’s known for beauty, for faith, for something
and that thing is what makes her so hated.
Too beautiful. Too faithful. Too loving.
Her downfall, that Queen, is that she cares.
She cares about her husband, perhaps,
or her people.
or herself, just a little too much.
And that leaves her lost, and alone, afraid and scared.
She isn’t prepared.
Sold to another kingdom for her ransom,
She marries, and she is not his favorite. He barely loves her.
She does everything she can.
Or he loves her, but he loves his old wife more.
Poor Queen, lost.
She takes up magic, takes up the old ways of lying and beauty and power.
She takes up new ways of passion and heart and anger.
The Evil Queen they call her.
Is she truly evil?
For wanting nothing more than stability, and hope?
Is she evil?
Or is she hurt? Lonely?
No one cares to ask, as they stab the sword into her dragon breast,
or throw her dashed down on rocks.
She is dead, poor Queen.
Poor evil Queen. She is dead.