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The Bitch Queen
The vague silhouette of a real porcelain doll locked in a darkened room,
Doe colored eyes empty; filled with the vast void of soullessness in crafted glass,
How easy it must be when she looks in the mirror to simply exist and not live,
The pale elegant mask she wore cracked but not quite broken,
Easily hiding her battle worn scars from a perfection driven world,
Sometimes she looked upon her true face proud of herself,
How smug she must be to know she’s the Queen bitch,
But secretly in her black hole of a heart she knows that her rule won’t last,
Those are the times she brings her followers down,
She needs sympathy; she needs malice and she needs hate,
Her grudge filled dance she ensnares with lust and proclaiming love,
The heartbreaking story of how no one understands,
But does she seek understanding...a helping hand?
Too much holding her back; choking on her own narcissism,
Hiding again between the elegant shades of black,
Blaming her life as she tore back her skin again with the metal shards,
To remember once again she can feel something as she sat alone inside her empty head,
Pity her you all you want but a true monster lies lurking and waiting,
She’ll use and abuse your friendship all because she can,
You have something she wants when she singles you out and she’ll have her way or else,
Manipulate you into another little drone who won’t fight back to save a reputation after all is said and done,
But she’s now craving fame and all its decadence with dark desires,
Hollywood here’s your next best actress; take her we sure as hell don’t want her,
Someday soon a revolt will happen and should her self-driven drama prove sincere,
Maybe she’ll cut a little more into her vein faraway from here…
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