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Oct 2018
She's queen of the desert,
peasant of the land
At night when the wolf howls,
she'd be Mother of Nile

At times when the heat kills
She fought for the light
A warrior in darkness, the
hope of the man

Her strength is as fiery
As the madman's eyes
that the Concord dictates
she's the beast immortal

Nobody thought to challenge
her reign, nor tried
to understand how
her plans were made

But everyone envies
to the core of their hearts
Some even sided
with devils' betrayal

Everyone wonders how
she got her Crown
Who made it possible
her defeating these odds

Nobody knew she's but
a slave in the wars
the one that smells,
with the bruises and the scars

No one knew her pirate
woes. The solitude
and the silent crows

But those moorish
Nights that saw it all
They took the pain, the screams
The fall

The academe & politicos
knew her too
Asked why'd she disappear
too far, too soon?

What's curious is that
she didn't know at
all, the lives she lived
had made her whole

It was probably fate or God
or faith, but she lives
the lives of her
seven tales
Pat Villaceran. All rights reserved. © 2018.
Pat Villaceran
Written by
Pat Villaceran
521
     Pat Villaceran, Fawn and daisypunk
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