❝All the world's a stage,

And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,

His acts being seven ages.❞

--William Shakespeare, As You Like It

this commoner-turned-queen is not your

playing piece, she is not your 

woman to use when you want someone to

climb on your lap and coddle you–

she is your equal and she 

holds more power between her 

bruised and battered lips and

gilded tongue than you

could ever                                                                      ( ❝All the women in me

dream of                                                                                              are tired.❞ )

you who claim to be the "king of kings," why then

are you defeated? you who hold the wealth of

thousands in your hands, why then

do you lust for what you do not have? ah,

you darling, silly, stupid boy–

you whose fathers have ruled for an eternity 

in your eyes, and you who search for a woman

to make your queen, you will fall for her

many times, and she will be the one

that wears

your crown

instead of                                                                      ( ❝Under this sun, it is

you                                                                                                  always you.❞ )

words are fickle, fickle things, as you may

know well, but you have bent them

to do your bidding, you have chained them

with the iron formed from their teeth–

you of blood and ink and a hundred truths and

a thousand lies, write this and write no more:

she is coming

for you all, and when she comes

she will

have you                            ( ❝Someone will remember us, I say, even in

bow                                                                                               another time.❞ )

ruinated one, woman and wolf and warrior contained

in a single breath, you were tired of listening so you

spoke, spoke rebellion encased in crimson and silk and

did not smile when they thought you a simple jest and 

nothing more, and 

ruinated one, girl and gift and growlings held

in the hollow of your chest–

you have been displaced, but the shadows are kinder

than men, and you will linger

and bide                                                            ( ❝I am mine. Before I am ever

your time                                                                                     anyone else's.❞ )

you are a blade, a weapon of war, something that

takes flesh between its teeth and

dares to smile at the remains, but the blood

that dribbles down your chin finds itself 

beneath your armor and you 

tremble at the coldness of it–

listen to me, boy, and do not stop to hear the words

of those who would tell you otherwise: 

you are a monster,

and only a woman with 

a monstrous heart

can love                            ( ❝Your worst sin is that you have destroyed

a monster                                       and betrayed yourself for nothing.❞ )

darling, dearest, little dove,

you did not know power

until you drank it down at the dawning

of the world

and swallowed your lungs

along with it, but girl, 

you will learn how to breath

and how to do it well–

this queen has brought the divine

hidden in the folds of her throat, 

and you will pray

for its                    ( ❝How you love yourself is how you teach others

deliverance                                                                                     love you.❞ )

this vessel is a lie, a lie, a shapeshifting beast, a lesson

in fluidity, something for the eyes to linger on

and to desire

and to take by the tips of its longing when it

wants to, but this vessel is also

a snake, a snake, something that will stay there and strike you

if you are not careful, this vessel–

ah, this vessel can drink and drink and drink what you

have given it but when this vessel

is full and oil-slick and done

with drinking

it will                                                   ( ❝After fury, what do you do with

break                                                                                        the remains?❞ )

you that are a lie, you that live a lie, you

that have fathered lies for your children, are you not

afraid? you that are the enemy, you that live 

as an enemy, you that have raised 

your children to become enemies, do you not

tremble? you that presumes to take the crown off the 

head of the king, you that presumes to rule in his stead, you

that presumes to 

kill the one you bow to, will you not

learn? you that are a lie–

know and understand:

every lie must

come to                                                            ( ❝Now there is nobody left

an end                                                                                       to forgive us.❞ )

she. lust-eyed. longing-filled. budding

like an almond tree in spring. she.

girl. woman. witch. wilting

like a rose underneath the summer sun–

she. clutching secrets to her chest and because you have

nothing else to call her you say

she.

she. knife-hearted. sharp-touched. something

that will bruise you when you 

think it                                    ( ❝Desire is the kind of thing that eats you

will not                                                                   and leaves you starving.❞ )