If your the Queen
If your the Queen,
then where’s your crown?
Have you a court
of tragic clowns?
Am I a witch,
for you to drown?
Am I an angel,
falling down?
If your the Queen,
then where’s your throne?
Where is your castle,
made of stone?
You have no pawns
of which to own
I do belive,
you are alone
If you the Queen,
than eat my shit
You have no throne,
on which to sit
Yet in my eye,
you seem to spit
You got your way,
I threw my fit
But little “Queen”!
But little whore!
I am not finished,
there is more!
This time I strike,
and leave you sore,
Your blood will spill,
Upon the floor…