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Sorting out her Majesty’s wardrobe

Was a hard ordeal, a chore she could not avoid.

In she got in a rush to get out of there the sooner and

Get rid of the apparel she has gotten over the years.

A jumble of fine cloths and moments of dazzle

Was soon formed on the wooden worn out floor.

Her former days of glory revived in oblivion

When she stood up against the dusty mirror with

A gown made of silk on her flawless white skin

And a blinding vanity, the emblem of her reign.

“Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of all?”

She uttered in a playful tone and smiled at the reflection

But her peer mirror gave no response

Leaving her unrequited fancy to fade out.

She used her palm to wipe the dust out

The unanimated gown lying down muted

She stepped closer and looked deep at her Majesty’s eyes

Smirking now at the face in front of her.

A crackling sound followed her every step

All the way down the staircase

Her body, as obsolete a burden as the clothes

She had just thrown out the window.


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