a tyrant queen,
smashing ambition with her scepter
beating dreams into servility,
commanding laughter to silence.
and in her land,
rivers run with tears of despair,
castles are built with bricks of defeat,
gardens of hope choked by weeds of depression.
and I must overthrow her.
I must call forth the dragons of my soul
to burn her fortress,
the sweet spirits of my heart,
to sing her into oblivion.
I must prevail,
break free of her spell.
My queen of loneliness,
I will not worship at her throne.
I alone can destroy her.
From a collection of my old poetry, found in a closet.