Susan dabs makeup on her face

To complement the black of her dress

She doesn't care for beauty

At least not anymore

You learn not to care for anything

When you're frozen to the core

Left alone-just for exploring a new world

A silken hat in place of a crown

A wine-stained dress instead of a gown

Left alone-in a place so cold

She is the gentle

She is the soft of heart

That he would have her lose it all

That he would only watch her fall

He had placed upon her head

A crown of thorns and roses red

Susan dabs on her pale, wet face

They lower them to their resting place

The people don't see her beauty now

Their eyes on the white boxes

She cares not for their condolences

I am the gentle

I am the queen of loving ways

That you would die for him

But leave me here

That you would right my wrongs

By taking all I held dear

You have placed upon my head

A crown of thorns and roses red

You once said, you will always be a queen

Yet in my hands I hold nothing

But blades of grass and clumps of earth

Is this the price for a crown once worn?

A blood-red crown, a crown of thorns

Note: This is a piano ballad that I wrote last year when I was stuck in a job that I loathed with all of me. Please keep in mind that the dark lyrics reflect what I felt about God and what I thought was His abandonment during a bleak chapter of my life. I no longer harbor these feelings today. Still, I believe that a very depressed, very human Susan Pevensie also felt this way post-The Last Battle.