You hold your breath to make more space
when you don’t know what you’re up against.
Then your back rakes splinters from the fence.
You flail your arms as the walls come crowding in.
It’s a losing battle when the queen calls war;
padlocks and chains bolt the door.
Truth sits hidden beneath the throne
of a heart unyielding as a stone.
She cuts you down with words
while smiling at those who pass her by.
Pursed lips of satisfaction smack across her face
as she struts around like she owns the place.
Will the guard come to chop off your head?
Can he sleep where he makes his bed?
It’s a losing battle when the queen calls war
You wonder what you are really here for?
Poison apple sits in your stomach;
you know exactly what you’re up against.