Jane
Bow before your queen
You are nothing but a metaphor.
‘Dress as if it is your last day on earth- because it is.’
Skin that is still healing from childhood falls,
I kneel for the first time in my life.
I braid my hair lazily, leaving strands that could have been pulled out by the wind,
Because I know I will never feel it again.
The axe is forged with the same gold as the crown
My head was forced to sport.
The indentations it made above my ears,
Now covered by the blindfold I tied before my eyes.
I’m gently laid to kneel on an emerald cushion,
And so carefully helped to reach the chopping block,
As If I am not about to meet a brutal death.
My sleeves raised so as not to stain them,
But my gown won’t be so lucky.
Bow before your queen
Execute her
Sharpen the blade for the next one.