The Queen

Not really a story, but not a poem. I started writing this almost a year ago and finished it tonight.

The Queen walked down the aisle.

She walked with determination and an aura of superiority.

As she walked her black dress flew behind her.

Her dress gave the impression that she had grown wings.

A dark angel with a throne of skulls.

Her crown, red as blood with a raven's skull on the front of it.

Her scepter, deadly with a blade on the tip of it.

As she made her way to her throne of skulls.

She peered at us with a look of contempt of disgust.

As if she couldn't be bothered to see her people.

The Queen had more important things to deal with this morning.

Her unquenchable thirst for killing her enemies.

Her desire to crush anyone who dares stand against her desires.

For the Queen dreamed of rivers of blood.

She fantasized of impaling her enemies.

Her gaze was terrifying.

Icy and cold like a winter morning.

Anyone looking for pity in those eyes would only meet death.

The Queen showed no mercy to anyone.

Young or old, she didn't care who they were.

Every single of us was expendable in her eyes.

And that is how she ruled so successfully.

Fear reigned over all of us.

The Queen saw to this and enjoyed it.

Reviews

[Norma M Sutton]

I think it sounds much like a break in a story. You could expand upon this and turn it into a longer piece of work with a little work. Also check this line
"Every single of us was expendable in her eyes." Did you leave out one?

[.]

. gosh ... she seems to exude unadulterated evil ... very powerfully written ... brilliant beginning ... but even more brilliant end ... glad you completed it ... this is meant to be read ...