May the, White Britishers, baptize, with tears
The towering tomb, of, their empress
Neither, black man, nor the, brown man, cares
To shed, a tear, o’er, ‘her highness’!

The Mistress, of, half of, the earth
Who reigned, o’er it, thru, her henchmen
Did well, to keep, her, ‘noble’ birth
Free of, sin-stains, every now, and then!

She turned, deaf, dumb, and blind, to them
She plundered, to, raise, her utopia
An elegant, facade, of a, macabre mayhem
She wreaked, in her, colonial dystopia!

Let the statesmen, wait in, endless queues
To flaunt, still lives, their, servitude’s gene
We have not, sold, our souls, nor views
We’ll, Never Mourn, The Murderous Queen!

© 2022 Vikas Chandra