They’ve silenced her whimpers,
Restrained her will to escape,
They wrapped her up in welts,
Kept her warm with fresh blood.
It pours out of her and she still gives,
As she begins to run dry they caress her,
Seal up her wounds and wipe away the dirt.
They make her Queen and follow without question,
They slowly begin to reenact upon one another,
Slicing up their tender skin as they did hers,
Stealing off with each others virtue,
As if the pathetic attempt would make up for their own.
She watches in horror as her subjects rip themselves apart,
Limbs separate, tongues bleed and teeth gnarl wet skin,
They believe this is how they will be forgiven,
They believe this is how they will get her back.
She is barren and dried up, shriveled on a throne,
Had she been there when she was well maybe,
But they realized her beauty as the last of her blood
Left the vessel of her body.
when u can’t figure out how to reblog something because of someone’s theme