Sometimes she imagines herself betrayed
and self pity becomes her last meal.
She rubs fragrant creams into her skin
and rims her eyes in darkest kohl.
Imagining herself to be Cleopatra
languishing on gold threaded pillows
an asp held to her breast.
Sometimes she dresses in satin and pearls,
posing prettily on her throne,
her legs artfully displayed in front of her.
Daring anyone the gall to look,
and hating them if they don't.
She fancies herself to be the temptress empress
fallen from the pages of a fairytale book
with her choice of princes from which to choose.
The peasants see her as Marie Antoinette
powdered, and pampered, bedecked, and adorned.
They are sick of eating her cake.
Gently they place her regal throat on the block,
lest she get a splinter,
before the blade comes down.
They sever all ties with the drama queen.