The Queen

Maybe I should tell you,
the story of a queen.
Who loved her life,
or so it would seem.
Every day, she would go outside.
And spend the morning
in the high tide.
And every night,
she would see the sight
of the horizon
with the moon's great light.
But though she smiled all the time,
her thoughts were as bitter
as the peel of a lime.
Though her sadness well-hid,
whatever she did,
she still felt it,
every bit.
So as she walked
in the tide,
her soul slowly died.
And as she watched
the water's edge,
Her wall grew higher,
like an un-trimmed hedge.
When she finally lay down
and put away her crown,
she had no soul,
and her heart
it was blacker than coal.
She had built her wall,
all around so it couldn't fall,
and so when she died,
she had no feelings at all.