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A woman of mystery
Dressed in red
The blood of jealous women's misery
Her mouth is discretionary
Her words planned perfectly
Others fix their mouths loosely
But with her details, she's choosey
She only said
What she wants spread
Her stories are wildfire
The gossip about her never tires
She sees it all but is blind
To admirers and liars
Her eyes downcast 
As though others are sire
But it's obvious she's a Queen
The streets are her Empire
She walks with so much power
Her strength turns real ones into cowards
She's comfortable in solitude
But can mingle in bursts like spring showers
Watering their minds,
Changing attitudes
Leaving the destitute
In gratitude
Though she's a Queen,
Her greatest joy is servitude

Oh, but won't hate make waves
Even those the Queen helped
Can be swayed
She was never forceful
She won't persuade them to stay
She'll still be here
After they've strayed
And she'll welcome them back
As though it didn't cause her dismay
Though she personally removed the swords 
After being betrayed
See, perfection was her greatest imperfection
She mirrored the worst of other's projections
She should have detached
But she allowed the belief 
That it was her who needed correction
Blinding those with her light
Wasn't her intention
So she dimmed her light in redemption
Oh, it made the shadows dance,
But in turn revoked her ascension
The realest one
Undone
By misconceptions

A haggard with no secrets
Dressed in black
Telling a story of regret
Of mourning a death
Her mouth is crooked
From the addictions picked up
Trying to regain a high
That she used to feel all the time
All that's the same,
Are her downcast eyes
But now they seek coins on the street
Not humility
And her outbursts are strategic,
To appear crazy
When you give them something to talk about,
It makes their lips idle
It wasn't until she consciously spiraled
That she spared herself from
Gossip, slander and libel
What a paradoxical method of survival
The homicide of a rival
And suicide of an idol
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