The Queen Poem by The Queen's Dagger

What is this thing inside of me?
One moment it's dead,
and the next, it's free.

It flies throughout the sky,
an angel, pure and divine.
Then a spear, aimed from below
turns snow white to crimson,
and out gushes a river flow.

It falls, wings flapping frantically,
and lands on a bed of thorns.

Sleep, sleep, my angel.
Close your eyes and bleed.
What an immortal enduring agony
you must face in order to be free.

In your absence, she returns.
She is dark and haunting,
clad in robes of the blackest night,
she sits ruling.

With an obsidian staff and endless eyes,
she claims your throne.