She was strong and pugnacious,
An authority commanding fear,
That was her prime, now she is ingenuous,
Bleak and weak, with serenity of a seer.
Beauty and power are indeed fickle,
Like overripe mango can’t become pickle,
A domineering force now trepid,
Rendering close ones nothing but gutted.
Oh Juliet, why can’t you turn time backwards,
The sight of unavoidable eventuality is melancholic,
He waits for you patiently on a journey upwards,
The queen will be rethroned, she will become bucolic.
One last fist fight, one last abomination,
Before the queen will be rethroned, in her heavenly mansion.