gasoline on a

queen

who feels absolved,

clean,

as if sin makes one dirty.

light a match,

start from scratch.

what does it matter? our deaths will all be

early.

. . .

gracile,

your castle,

but such a hassle.

all these games,

power plays,

and she is the same —

don't you realize?

freedom is a right,

not a prize.

[admittedly,

i know nothing about rights

but i know that i am right,

and what is that compared to your rose?]

. . .

katniss, coin, snow, and freedom.

idk if it was clear or vague but eh — poetry is vague so ￣\_(ツ)_/￣