Held Up High

The one thing I can't let go of, the one thing that keeps me holding my head up high. It's like the very last string holding this puppet upright.

It is that I once was a Queen, I ruled my friends, I was their leader. I gave them guidance, I gave them power. I was the thing to be. I was strong despite everything, I was smart, too.

And then my castle came tumbling down. I pushed and pulled the stones out of the mortar. I threw vases filled with wilting flowers at the wall and watched the glass glimmer and the flowers gasp as they drowned in air

I tore my castle apart, I couldn't stand the look of the walls looking to enclose me like a tomb, the steepness of the stairs that always seemed to want me to tumble to my death, the sad reminder in pictures of once was compared to what is now hanging on the same wall, trying to strangle me with grief.

And more and more, I couldn't stand the people who lived in my castle with me. Those who faked smiles, who seeked to hurt me, who wanted my kingdom to turn to ash. Who wanted to control me in the worst of ways.

I was once Queen. I once held my head high. I once believed in the power of myself, with my friends by my side.

Now my crown is gone, stolen by someone who doesn't deserve it. The weight of the missing crown threatens to bend my chin towards the floor, but I can't, I won't, allow it. I now have to believe in the power of myself, without my friends by my side. I have to build my very own castle from the ground up.

Despite all this, I know I am still a Queen. I know that I still rule- though it may be of myself rather than others. I guide myself through treacherous seas, and I do a pretty good job of it still.

So I'll find a new crown to hold upon my head, and I'll wear it with pride.

And with that, everyone will know that, though disposed and my throne stolen, I am still Queen. There's not a second guess.