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The Cursed Queen
Tears of poison down her cheeks
a slipper of ivy on her feet
bond in vines she is held tight
while her heart is cased in thorns.
Beneath the soul where roots
are left to dangle, she withers
a curse upon her breast.
Dead leaves to make her bed
she lays her head within the brambles
until the touch of moon caress
to call her out from the depths.
Blooms in full starlight
where darkness conceals
a beauty to be lost.
So she bleeds to make
sacred the ground
a stain in red her only
marker.
By the dawns light
she must retreat
to sink into her grave
again.
10:09 AM - 8/18/2007 -
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