Lady Macbeth
There she sat, with a fluttering nerve
Ebbing in her alabaster slim throat
Black pearls clasped around
As if clutching on and revering
Her dainty head and dark mind.
Her bottom lip, wine stained
Nervously bitten, slightly swollen
Her ivory fingers choking the stem glass Red poured in; grief spilled out
There was a humming sound around
Humming it felt to her small ears
The wails of concubines and queens One king slaid for another in making The body passed her balcony in farewell, She raised her glass, not her veil.
Comes in the dreaded scenery
A black butterfly and settles on pearls Seems like what witches cackled to husband Now is whispered to her by a mute butterfly The wine tastes sweeter with every second
“Guilt is for weak, my will- be -queen” You hardly lifted a finger and behold! The throne is tossed to your feet
How could you have trodden gently? You were in love my loveliest!”
“Fear is for those subdued,”
Continues the mute fly-
“It’s for those who are beaten by Faith and stay awake in tossing dreams You have paid your dues, now celebrate!”
“Lovely, yet lonely… celebrate with whom?” Whisper back the wine-stained lips
The black butterfly spreads itself
On the royal lap and blends in
The black lace of mourning dress
The ships will sail from Arabia
The bottled scents may not reach What reeks now will remain
The stench of death and doom
Will only lift the veil, not the burden.
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