The Burnt Queen _ poem

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The woman would wander throught the hallway

Where many were hurt, many were dying

She hid in the shadows, waited for the light of day

To calm the pacients in the hospital lying.

She held the hands of those who slept

With nightmares of torture, nighmares of death

Some were afraid, or just full of regret.

When the time came for their last breath

She held them close, heard their cries.

At the end of their lives, they only cared

If she was able to pass on their good-byes

And she always smiled for they weren't scared

Of her burned scars or her messy hair.

She knew they saw a woman and not the Grim reaper,

Only someone always there smilling, tall and fair.

When their hearts cut off the sound of the beeper

She hoped that even in death they wouldn't know

That she was, none other, than the Burnt Queen,

With skin hot as fire but at heart kind as snow

With scary look but never mean.

Created: Mar 12, 2014

Tags: poetry

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