30 May 2012

I am but a mother

Though you criticise my name,

Advertise me as a harlot

And an open lesbian.

But I was just a pawn,

Trafficked from my home,

A political slave

From the Holy Empire of Rome.

At first you seemed to like me

But what made you turn?

Cruelly dubbed 'Autruchienne'

As my portraits you did burn.

They twisted my once crooked smile

Just to please you, France,

When handed over on the Rhine

I thought I had a chance.

I feared my own mother

Much more than I could love,

I hoped that you, dear France,

Would be new mother to this young dove.

I wallowed in the sorrow

Your snide comments inspired

By gambling and purchasing

The most beautiful attire.

I was just a pretty face

My advice not heeded,

So don't blame me for your hardship

I was not informed, not needed.

Yes I imitated the simple life

As an ideal, I envied strong

All you free, joyous peasants,

Though I could not have been more wrong.

I never said 'Let them eat cake.'

That's a propaganda lie.

I did not hear your impoverished screams

As 'Woe is me!' you cried.

I never cared much for necklaces,

I much preferred a bracelet

But now you cruelly place one round my neck

One of a sharpened fit,

Quickly strung upon me

With guillotine-hewn rubies dripping down my chest

Mothers of France, I implore you,

Pity me, I did my best.

DelilahMaria Antonia • Opuss № I