Formerly a Queen

Once a fire,
Now a firework,
She could tell you
So much about
Being barely alive,
Yet she chooses
To smile all the time.

Once a queen,
Now one of us,
She could give you
A harsh lecture on
Somehow staying alive,
Yet she chooses
To decline your dime.

More deaths than fingers on a hand,
She is the other shoe.
A strange kind of a martyr she is,
More than just white and blue.

And I am on my way -
Mortal to immortal,
At the break of day.

August 21st, 2016 - written in a moving vehicle

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