The Quietly Wicked Lady and Her Temper of Doom

Heather has a Bachelor's Degree in English from Moravian College and has been freelance writing for more than 13 years.

Another day, another dollar stolen by society's fat cats

People who rule the world with a carefully disguised iron fist

Wrapped under the careful costume of Jiminy Cricket's grandmother

Pretended to be nice and surrogate motherly to those in need

Weighed with strong words of encouragement or disappointment

Could make the brightest Sunflower wither into Mother Nature's ashes

Eight years of a friendly day and nighttime solid as a rock rapport

Suddenly, found a chink in Sir Lancelot's sturdy armor

Unseen to the naked eye until this very moment

One swift jab with Excalibur and Arthur would be planning a funeral

Guinevere's journey more important in this sordid saga anyways

A woman always meant to be a secondary player in life

Never possessed an identity in her own right beyond being a royal wife

Afraid to embrace the darkness of her adventurous needs

Turned to Lancelot as a convenient proxy to being stuck as 2nd class

To the men in her life and cursed by her naturally "reserved" gender

The Queen's modern day counterpart also a somewhat subdued bird

Wings clipped in place behind their back for fear of rocking the boat

Capsizing it by expressing an unpopular personal opinion

One that the Knights at the Round Table won't ever share

Fed up with paying the membership dues to a meaningless club

No satisfactory rewards; except childish gluttony and vanity

Pretending to enjoy the same youthful things that passed us by ages ago

Time to put away the toys swords and plastic armor

No one will ever be knighted unless it's by the Queen of England

Highly doubtful otherwise

Ready to rip the membership dues bill to shreds for good

Feeling the wrath from a wolf in sheep's clothing

With harsh taunts under the phony veneer of niceties

Embarrassed that this former table member gave up their backbone as well

Stomach drained of all joy of thick homemade brownies

Sacrificing the nice to help anyone cross the street again

Unless it's necessary

Sick of getting nothing in return for being kind to others

No longer being a human doormat

Dusting off the footprints and ready to kick the door down

Step back and watch where it falls!