Once full of joy just like a dove

Once full of passion, betrayed by love

The Queen hides in the shadows now

No light can touch her from above

As she no longer can believe

In what used to be her vivid dream

 

These days the woman has no heart

And if you ask the mighty God

He can’t even recall her face

Neither does she, fallen in disgrace

No love from Him, no love of hers

For any of the broken herds

That come and knock at Heaven’s door

And, when rejected, roll on her floor

Asking for what they never received

From the God that only deceived

But when she looks at each of them

She touches their arms – a cold intent

And then she laughs and laughs and laughs

No one to hear beyond the glass

The screams, the tears, the emptiness

Which come along in desperate waves

And when the torment finishes

New slaves, new slaves of nothingness,

That hide behind a mask, no heart

Just like the Queen that rules the flock

 

(A poetry inspired by the painting Queen of the Broken made by Oana Alexandra Albertsen from A Sleepy Spirit Art)