The Ruler
Bruised and alone, yet tall she reigns
Rising from the cornered chamber to balance her heavy crown
Her pride visible as banners caught high on a morning squall
With subjects of seclusion, regret, and hate eager to await her command
She obliges their hunger, cautious of the offering
It will not last. It will not hold sway
The borders must be sealed and the walls rebuilt
She will not stop short. She will not falter again
None will be spared once she holds dominion
The guards will destroy all who dare near
Such is vital for her succession
Long may she rule