So well known for her cruelty.
So loved for all her atrocities.
So blamed for all her doings.
So admired for her wars.
So hated for her laws.
So denied for her morals.
So feared for all her tortures.
So exiled for the good inside her.
So misunderstood for all her crimes.
So honored for the lives she took.
So sad for the lack of light in her soul.
So proud for the darkness inside her mind.
So enraged for the army she controlled.
So tired for the Crown upon her head.
So sinful for the roses in her gardens.
So tragic for the men in her chambers.
So innocent for the pages in her bedroom.
So terrifying for the souls at her gates.
So kind for the animals in her forests.
So little for the lover in her bed.
So much more for the lust in her.
So tormented for her Throne.
So black for her heart.
So red for the tears she screamed.
So gore for her victims.
So envied by the women who wished were her.
So cold for the Summer’s Day.
So outside for the times she lives in.
So focused on her duty.
SO NECESSARY FOR HERSELF.
SO HEARTFELT FOR THE EVIL INSIDE HER.