The Queen - a poem on domestic violence

My persuasions ever so misty they are...

I made a tiara with those nails and pins.

While nobody ever said that I am the queen.

My fragile mind weaved few words

"Yes I am the queen " cried Isabella.

I feel it in my bruises ,

Where the blue blood indeed stained my attire.

Yes ,that colour is blue somehow

And it's not deceiving at all.

I was choked with the food,

The blue undertones in the skin unfolded.

I was turned into a masochist

Thanks to the pain and grief.

The mirror reflects all things blue

Oh! This is testimony, my soul is so blue.

I am the queen,why not dream.

On some queer planet and a new life

I will be the queen ,where the blue gets green.