what a queen

she clasped her hands around the rope and gasped
gasped--
the words that might save her.
but they didn't save her --
she drowned in her ignorance as the
rope rubbed away her skin, leaving
bloody palms.
all she had to pick up
the mess with were her sore
bloody, palms.

she lifted shards of glass from the dirt,
strewn with dismembered body parts
and dented armor. and she cried
out
as a bloodied hand gripped her ankle
the voice gasped
"this is your own doing"

and she collapsed next to him,
buried her suddenly aged face in her palms
and wept.
wept for all the pain she had wrought
for all the blood she had drawn
for all the lives she had taken,
to save her own.

"how i have disappointed my people;
what people? i have no people.
i killed them all in my greed.
what a queen i have become."