Suicide of An Idol

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