A Two-Part Prose Poem, inspired by the tale of Queen Elizabeth I
It hurts, almost like the green monster has
Plunged a knife into my
Infallible, innocent, ingenuous
The heart that has felt pain, yes,
But not like this.
It is almost physical,
As I feel my heart's beat
Loud and falling, like failure.
Hurting when it sees
What could have been.
It tears away at my soul
Reducing it to ashes
Every time I see
Upon seeing her, it increases
Rupturing my body, my wounded, scarred body
Crumpling my heart
Tossing it in the fire.
It relishes my emotions,
Eating away until I am numb.
Trying to figure out where I stand
Now that all is lost
And my very being is forsaken.
My bitter, sadistic foe.
I know I don't have it
But I know she doesn't deserve it
She would lie, and cheat, and cry
they would love her.
Others would offer their hand
Which she would take
Until they bled, destroyed
Having completed her every order
What would they receive?
Not a thing.
Not a thing.
Not a single, filthy penny.
And still they bask in her glory
Melt in pools of awe before her
While I remain, wounded,
The only one who could clearly see her true colors
The only one who dared challenge
Her ugly ways.
Who is the villain?
You are, she would say.
Showing everyone she is better
Exposing me as the evil
(Which I am, I know
Or have become whilst drowning in hatred)
But I know hers is greater
Can I still rise above?
I will show her I am stronger
The prize she seeks shall soon be mine,
For I shall hate no longer
Instead becoming nothing less
Than the sweetest damsel that ever lived.
In my glory I will destroy her
Exposing her by being what she is not,
For it does no good to hate
Except adding fuel to the fire.
The flame that will be
Breaking her, as she has done me.
And together, we will go down in history
As the queens, the sisters who would always be
Once the scars of my pain heal,
And my heart beats steadily once again,
And my soul repairs itself,
Justice, in all our evil, shall prevail.