*Trigger warning: sexual violence*
You know me as queen. A lady. His lady.
By his side, till death do us part.
But, I want to tell you a story. The one that led to me being known as a tart.
Here I stand, being judged by you.
You decide my fate, what is false and what is to be true.
It started when I was 14. My bedroom door and it’s badly hidden key.
He entered; my skirt was raised above my knees.
He was my music teacher, with a too much curiosity,
I still feel it all now, the shame overwhelms me.
I lived for years, thinking this was okay,
Before gossip spread and I’m known as the queen who lays
On my back as I feel the men’s weight,
I’m not Queen Katherine anymore, but slutty Kate
Standing accused of adultery on the king
Blamed for having sex whilst wearing his ring.
It wasn’t consensual. It never has been
But I’m called a prude if I’m not seen as keen
Now my end has come without feeling love from any man
Just sex, and kisses, and babies, because they can.
But I’m just a girl who never asked for this life
I never asked to be Henry VIII’s wife
I never asked for responsibility,
Like most women, I just wanted liberty.
To be a beautiful fool is the best thing to be
Mother would say that to me,
But there is one thing I’ve learnt
Over the years, my heart has been so burnt
And it’s not just Henry who’s like this
Who has a Mrs and a Miss.
Because man doesn’t have to be royalty, to be king
His gender alone, decides that we should be worshipping.
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