The Queen

She spent 20 years inside,
Spent all in her harrowed mind.
She closed the door, and let the devil in.
All these tears have not been lit.

All up through the years she roamed,
took no love, but held it now.
Only the devil saw what she honed.
All these years she'd hand it out.

She'd never see any of the good,
she'd never be all that she could.
She might just be herself tomorrow.

Seems these years, and years she proned,
holding out what's set in stone.
My eyes in the cold of hands payed,
my eyes lost, through hell I'd gazed.

When years pass in limelight rain,
she'd never have the love she'd gained.
Slept through the answers in her dreams.
Slept through time, she slipped from me.

She'd never see any of the good,
she'd never be all that she could.
She might just be herself tomorrow.