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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