With a wicked scorn,
she fronts with her pawn.
As you step to the square,
unaware, you better beware.

With a candle in hand,
She rides her lone eyed horse
and rides him with no remorse.
Her will, steers his gallant moves,
swift and upon bronze plated hooves.
Leather reins choke his blood shot veins,
Her beast of burden squeals with pain.

Her bishop, castrated by his promise,
cloaked in veil, forever derailed.
Diagonal, the path that ain’t divine,
only meant for a rotten, god forsaken swine.

Don’t let her play you with that rook,
that seemingly straight laced crook.
Perched upon the watchtower,
he stomps and trumpets,  charging for battle
But if the king insists, he would readily castle.

Demure and seemingly pure, the queen,
with velvet rouge upon her lips
and the seductive shadow dance of those wicked hips.
The dark maze of this moaning mind,
madness brewing, her thoughts borne to manifest, a devilishly divine brine.
Solemn, Benevolent are her attempts,
Brewing hate, only filled with contempt,
the survival of her clan,
her vicious masterplan.
Perhaps her stillborn fawn, no longer a pawn,
treads each square, to spawn, her very mom.

Now my king,
Your birth, shrouded, illegitimate a claim, fruit of royal peachy plush womb.
An audience, present as you enter the world, screaming, also present, as you enter your tomb.

Bestowed by the power of the almighty,
Your self-proclaimed rule, a heavenly duty

Staff in hand, the mighty cross upon your head,
Irreverent and Immobile, wishing we all were dead.

The insecurity of your crown, the burden so heavy you could drown.

The coward’s reign, filled with prophesy and pain,
Trapped by the queen, you’re now in quarantine.

Check, she shrieks, as she takes hold
Her eyes aflame, red and serpent gold,
Red, the wax overflows, her neck craned to amaze,
Lips parted, bestowed with radiance and muse like grace.
Impenetrable, her countenance, diabolical her hyena gait
Hermaphrodite, giggling, only on a moonlit night will she mate.

64, your mother, once a queen, gifted you each square.
Mated by the queen, Now you’ve got none to spare.

Sinister, not Dexter, you’ve been played for a jester.

Silk, her heretic thoughts, mesmerize, sneak, enraptures your mind,
Fear, the dark glow, ensues, as you feel this life leave you behind

Thoughts creep, once your torture chamber, now, your hellish grind

Mad, swine like, dark dungeon walls now hear you wail
Molten Metal, sharpened, now shone, await your impale.

Sodomized, before your very eyes, now you realize
That your lord, wicked and wise, is just a disguise