PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

My dear son

If only you could have seen the grandeur

The palaces that I once owned

And the riches that were mine

You would have fallen down upon your knees

Right where you are

Just to bow down to me.



Revolution is such a dirty word

It just simply, revolts me

That common people should feel so lowly about themselves

That they had to take it all out on me

Let them eat cake!  Let them eat cake!

What is so wrong about that?

I yearn for my earlier days

Before this sort of captivity

You see before you a mere shell of who I was

Beauty, defined

In the ultimate Queen of France.



“Excuse me son, but visiting hours are over.

We have to take Ms. Smith in for her treatment now

But you can come back tomorrow

To visit.”



“Paging Dr. Freud, paging Dr. Freud.  

Please report to room 5A to treat Ms. Smith….”



September 7, 2003