She’s like the wind

Through my tree

As dead leaves flutter

She thinks of me.

The moonlight restores

Her lunar smile

Which was stolen from her

A crime so vile.

He’d have his foot

Pressed against her back

Don’t give him lip

Don’t give him flack.

That lording mongrel

A putrid breed

Parsimonious priorities

Her desire to leave.

So call out to me

My solemn sister

I offer you protection

From this macabre mister.

Eliminate his manacles

Erase his restraint

Eradicate his scorn

As he sashays like a saint.

Look in the mirror

It’s time to atone

I see you my queen

Receive your throne!