the great lady of Perfection, excellent in counsel
regal in her fashion, brought up in royalty;
draped in beauty and power
with the ability to start whole wars with the wave of her wrist;
and bring cymbals crashing with the clap of her hands
voices of praise follow her procession through the streets
the jewel of Africa, their King was a Queen

the sway of her hips attracted Kings of different skin
from men old enough to be her father in the great Caesar
to charming, younger generals, Marc Antony in his prime
in love with man, he fell in love with her appeal
gifts of countries and seats of power
much to the despise of the Roman Empire
her perfume caused confusion and charges of treason
to Egypt they fled, their love the only reason
preemting her demise, hidden in her tomb;
the death of young Marc
and her, by an asp in her room.

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