Queen Sophia is in trouble again,
But the sad thing is that no one
cares:
With maniacal screams,
And a poisonous red whip,
She scourges the peasant
Who steps out of line.

Her eyes glow with a molten
madness.
One glance from her diabolical
pupils
Would render a person
Into a quivering mass of jelly.

Her raven black hair writhes
Medusa-like with serpents.
Sulfurous blood drips down
her fangs,
And her mere touch is poisonous.

Patience is but a lost memory,
A gift that the gods stole away.
Silence is as forlorn as ashes
On a lost and lonely wind.

The peasants who can still move
Walk somberly with downcast
eyes.
There is an emptiness in them
That chills the marrow in
your bones.

Covertly, a little girl with a red dress
Watches Queen Sophia...