He watched as the stars

fell away from her eyes;

being sucked into a dark

cold void without a spark.

He knew what she needed

and so he nearly succeeded,

but this he couldn't complete

because he was lost in greed.

Greed of owning her,

he could never be sure.

Greed of being owned,

to his Queen he bowed.

Queen all too pure of ugly sin;

pale like a Moon was her skin.

No one ever more graceful than she;

the reason Joker free could not be.

So she hid, ridden of farther ridicule.

Didin't know about Qeens's stares - loveful.

The throne empty is, dust fallen on it.

Where is the Queen without the Joker supposed to sit?

Sat on the gray stone-cold floor

facing the creaking wooden door.

As she returns, mask of death worn

isn't the purpose for which Joker was born.