She stands tall and proud

With leafy crowns

Decorating her branches

 

The track runners

Have finished their race

And are given her abundance of

Crowns

 

Yet the Title of Royality

Comes with a decaying

Price for the runners to pay

 

In order to maintain

Their thrones, they must

Respect and give up their fruits

For the Queen

 

For she is the tree

And they are the branches

And without her, they are nothing

 

She has the power to

Graft you on, and

The power to throw you

Off

 

And should anyone fail

To give her the first fruits

Of their labor,

 

She'll take her branches,

Rip off their crowns,

And choke them until they

Wither like leaves