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Feb 2018
Queen of hearts, atop your throne.
Who stole your tarts? You’re all alone.
No one to hurt, and no one to love.
Wherever you flirt, death will certainly come.

House of cards, but no one’s impressed.
No knights or bards, for you to distress.
You broke all those hearts, but they weren’t enough.
Now you’re breaking apart, and I’m calling your bluff.

A beautiful palace, for no one to see.
The whispers of Alice, “You’ll never be free.”
So young and so restless, alone with your head.
Alice is headless, but you’re truly dead.
Isabella Terry
Written by
Isabella Terry  Tennessee
   Helen Raymond
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