The Rulers

The kings and queens stood,

fingers intertwined,

eyes as cold as the unsolved mysteries

of the doomed galaxy.


They danced to a tune of their own,

feet flying across the splatter-painted earth

and bodies fluctuating in the ashen air.


That night they walked home

their crowns put into a box

their song of laughter silenced

the blood washed from their shoes.


Then they smiled

and said they knew nothing –

even when the bruises began to show,

when I was a picture of royal purple and deep blue,

painted by their cruelty.


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