A Garden of Magnolias / by Academy Monthly

I could never have him
Nor hate him.
Never would I know what it is like
To be the queen to his king, 
The bow to his arrow,
The shield to his sword.

How could a daisy like me
Uncontrollably float down a stream
And hope to pass alongside
Violets, when all I ever had,
Were stone cold
White daffodils.

A lion towers above
Higher than the gazelle stuck below
Praying to see.
Waiting for him, and his
In a garden of magnolias,
I search for a single ambrosia.

Dark crimson roses will be planted
In my honor by
The controller himself.
Lilies given to me from him,
Murderer of my father, but
Who wants flowers when you’re dead?