The Queen
Frozen sapphire eyes flash with rage.
Anger, swirling and spiraling into the Ebony darkness.
Heat, like Hell's fire turns to unyielding cold.
Beware the golden haired witch who walks the Abyss clothed in spilt blood.
Like a thunderclap, the maelstrom is upon the unwary.
A voice filled with caverns and midnight skies, ancient and powerful, commands obedience.
Terrifyingly beautiful, her lips coil into an unearthly snarl.
The light-hearted, joyful young girl is gone, replaced by a graceful, lustrous, predatory Queen, intellectual and refined, while unemotional and withdrawn.
Out of the Abyss floats a scream of retribution, of joy and pain, rage and celebration.
Like leaves in a vortex of power, memories swirl and dive, around and around the domain of the aristocratic wisdom of those who love and cherish her.
Her rage burns while her sorrow freezes, as she weeps the land laments in sonorous anguish.
Her every waking dream is infected by the felonious acts of pure evil, residue of a shattered childhood.
Her cry for love, understanding and care is muffled by the gag of her suspicion.
Her heart calls out to those around her, while she warns them away with cool words.
Sometimes, even the Queen of the Darkness may need to see and revel in the brilliance of the light.