A banker queen of Florence fair
A patron of the arts
Whose greatest crime was being born
To wound men's pride and hearts
I'm often blamed by history
For maiming Huguenots
But what was I to do, my dears
I did not loose those shots
All I did was angle for my
Sons to reign supreme
Any Ma would do the same
No matter the extreme
Because of me the Valois name
Is known as something grand
Without my hand it'd be for naught
They'd have no leg to stand
Like every queen I'm called a witch
Who hid behind her sons
I'd rather that than be the one
Who fled from swords and guns
So, hate me if you really must
My soul can rest at ease
I am not the villain and
Ambition's no disease
YOU ARE READING
Wicked Women
PoesíaWicked Women is a collection of poems written from the eyes of history's most maligned and hated women. This collection explores what motivated these "evil" women to commit murders, robberies, and other infamous crimes and offers a glimpse beyond th...
