Wings [Poetry]

Queen

She has everything she wants.
She has nothing that matters.

She sits on a throne of darkness,
Wearing a crown of thorns;
Her body, covered in nothing
But chains, writhing.
Those are her demons,
Slowly, twisting, turning,
Putting her out of her misery.

She is a shard of glass
Magnificent yet, deadly.
She's the angel that fell straight
Into the depths of hell
And did not try to crawl out.
Her dirt encrusted, clipped nails,
Digging deep into her skin,
Falling apart,
Just like her faith.
Shaking, dwindling,
Broken.

Her heart does not pump blood,
But poison that seeps into her brain,
Killing everything she touches,
Infecting her very existence.

Her visage appears cracked
But her heart is in shatters,
Functioning on a mind
That does not belong to her.
It belongs to him- Death
He embraces her,
His darkness consumes her,
From inside out,
Spreading like wildfire,
Burning away her sanity,
Killing her with every breath.

She is praying
As it crumbles down- her kingdom;
The kingdom of a queen
Who cannot love,
Waiting for her demise.