She swept into my world

like an empress recalling taxes.

This is mine,

she declared, as her green eyes claimed

every fibre of my being

in a single hungry glance.


Who was I?

Grist for the mill?


Low-hanging fruit?


Who was I before it all?

A subject,

a serf..?


A person, to myself.


Who am I?

Who am I?

Who am I?


She turned her green eyes away...

Her court is empty.

She will no longer be taking audience,

or council.


Who am I? I asked...

and my plea fell on deaf ears.



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