Challenge
Challenge of the Month XXXIX
Write a short poem about your own private Hell. The tortured who reigns gets 100 big ones. Winner will be picked by Prose. Go.
Queen of Wands
I sat on a throne of thorns
They whispered curses, murmured jinxes, choked my throat
I asked them to get lost
I was the queen, the higher power who controls
Little monsters, with burnt wings and teeth with holes
“You shall die, and you will” giggled,
then they shrieked, my hands felt cold
I begged for mercy but they laughed it off
Gave me a gleaming mirror and my head twisted over with their force
In the reflection an elder woman, pale like a corpse
My thin lips opened, my shriek unheard
Realized that there was no one coming to my help
If this is hell then who am I?
Not immortal, not a deity, not great might
The monsters’ voices ceased, then drilled some songs
“You the queen, and we your thoughts.”
2
0
0