Suicidal Queen

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She goes to bed to die,
but she wakes up blind.
They imitate her eyes,
but can’t activate her mind.
A smell of the brain,
and a sound of a wheelchair.
Men gazing at the Sun,
while women sign in creepy choir.
Filling papers,
changing sheets,
pretending sane,
unable to speak.
She wears white dress,
that could fit an eight year old.
Her long black hair,
hides the eyes with a dead soul.
A nineteenth year old baby,
had to die to stop the pain.
And as the Sun was coming up,
she spread her wings and flew away.
I promise when the Pluto rises,
expect her, she’ll be born again.

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