• A kingdom mortgaged for a future monarch,
    For her a stained gold chamberpot, a waste of wealth
    Abuse from dear father put a strain on her mental health
    Making her life cold, solitary, ignorant and dark.

    In coach she traveled, in a higher throne she sat,
    Rising to the top with knowledge and eloquence equipped,
    The highest class of people she would have so easily quipped,
    With posture like that of a pampered cat.

    A person who people do not truly know,
    So regal, elegant, resplendent, divine and proud,
    Dressing in purple and yellow, drawing attention of many crowds,
    A mystery to the minds of the peasants below.

    Eight years of music, talk, poetry in Latin,
    After her schooling her house was depressing and bare,
    For her perfect life as queen cost the family precious silverware,
    And from riches to rags no longer wearing satin.

    Nowadays dreaming in her wooden castle,
    With a brutish husband, and her three offspring
    Seeing family as peasants, less than a queen, or king
    Nowadays when her life only hassles.

    She keeps correspondence with her invisible doctors,
    While the Buendia family was left to fall by the wayside,
    She would only wait for the peasants that she would soon guide,
    While keeping in line with with her royal proctors.

    Standing in front of mirrors, dreaming of royalty,
    In a moth eaten gown than can barely reaching the floor,
    Remembering the days that were no bay any scale inferior,
    And when invisible doctors weren't her only loyalty.