ֆǟʟȶʏ ʀօʏǟʟֆ: ֆǟʟȶʏ զʊɛɛռ

She wears the crown
but the mine never closes.

Salt grinds behind her eyes,
pours from her nose,
and buries the artist she once was.

Paint still stains her hands.
Dreams still flicker beneath.

But the salt has risen
and taken the throne.