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Rated: 18+ · Poetry · Adult · #1987518
I often like to write poems outside my normal oddness, this is one such poem. Enjoy!

-The Queen Is Dead-
by Keaton Foster

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The headless queen
Sleeps at my feet
Tears did she weep
I am no man of honor
But rather
A desperate monster
I was sent by another
Driven to kill her
An offer was made
One that I
Could not afford to refuse
I rode in unopposed
My dark horse
An iconic marker of death
Causing those brave few
Who stood in her honor to flee
My burning eyes
A clear sign of a man set aside
My weapon of utter death
Unsheathed
Appeared always ready to kill
Upon a moment’s notice
I could use it to cut another down
Wisely the villages all fled
Foolishly the kingdom guards
Fell dead
Upon my horse called the end
We stood in the courtyard of royalty
The queen was left alone
Naked and exposed
She knelt down before me
And asked me for forgiveness
I assured her there was none
She begged me to consider mercy
I assured her that I
Was incapable of as much
After her attempt at bargaining
Had failed
Once all reason
Was fooled
She quietly said
My executioner
Do what you’ve come here to do
Let your sword be true
May I feel none of what is due
I stepped down from my steed
At her side
With purpose I stood
From her point of view
I’m sure that I appeared as a giant
From my point of view
She appeared fragile and helpless
The angle for my one and only strike
Was just right
I raised my sword up high
Like a thousand angry men
I knew that I must swing
But before I did
I whispered into her ear
Thy queen of all men
But I
This is not personal
I was offered something
Beyond all refusal
You must die
So that another can live
Be assured that your death
Will be less brutal
And more swift
Now if you please
Make your peace with God
When Amen crosses your lips
I will strike you down
I will separate your head
From your crooked spine
Severing all that makes you
Royalty in this world of men
With little to no gallantry
With little to no sympathy
Unopposed
There I stood and waited
She made her peace
She cried her tears
I am unsure if they were
Tears of joy or tears of fear
Either mattered none at the time
But I must admit that later
Such a distinction
Would get under my skin
And there it would always remain
The sweet words amen crept out
And with all the kindness
That I could muster
With all the precision
That I could afford her
I brought my sword down
With a force no doubt
Greater than the one applied
It sliced though her neck
Like the wind cutting through the air
Only stopping when the blade
Crashed the ground
Her head rolled away
As her body fell in place
All that made her alive escaped
All that made her the queen
Was slain by these hands
Proof would be required
I placed her head in a sack
Upon my steed I screamed
Back to the kingdom of no man
Once there I placed her head
At the feet of the being
That had something
Far more valuable to me
Than any queen
That I refused to believe
I said to that being
The queen is dead
I’ve brought you her head
Proof of her calamity
And the payment for what
You have promised me
Pay up
Deliver me my prize
What was required to make me
Kill the queen of every man
But you and I
At my feet he delivered
What was once lost to me
At my feet he returned
What was once stolen from me
Her name is Isabelle
My one and only precious child
As soon as she looked into my eyes
No doubt noticing a change
She asked
Father what have you done
I replied
The queen is dead…


The Queen Is Dead
Written by Keaton Foster Copyright © 2014.

© Copyright 2014 Keaton Foster: Know My Hell! (keatonfoster at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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