The supports are failing

The rosy-nosed girl,
sitting shaded by the tree.
The air all around,
her only company
The highest hill is hers,
looking  down upon the rest.
While her dormant canine,
lay upon her breast.
Then, from a distance,
a voice, bodiless and cold.
Pierces through the airy flesh,
approaching to scold.
"O, look at the rosy-nosed girl!
See how she sits!
Upon that acursed hill,
her arse only fits!"
Cheeks now red,
the rosy-nosed girl ran.
Down and down her lofty hill,
to kill the voice of that man.
The fog scraping her eyes,
and the grass groping her boots.
Even the trees tried to stop her,
but she cut through their roots.
It had been decades since she had decended,
years since she had come down.
To see the people slaving away,
shackled to her town.
Slavery had always made her smile,
labor burdened upon others.
While her hands always clean,
just like her mother's.
But this time was different,
there was no reason to smile.
The intentions in her mind,
were indeed the upmost vile.
"I'll kill him! I'll murder him!
I'll skin him alive!
I'll cut him into pieces,
with the sharpest of knives!"
She boasted and shouted,
the entire town shook.
Everyone that heard her,
dared not to look.
"Where is this man?
Who dare scold me?
Come out now at once!
I demand thee!"
Not a body did stop,
not a person dare stand.
For everyone knew,
what fate was at hand.
Where upon though,
she continued to shout.
Such vulgar words,
from her mouth did spout.
Until one man,
marked himself for death.
He stood up and looked at her,
counting every breath.
Clothes barely capable,
to be called such.
And a body, frail and cold,
altogether, didn't amount ot much.
"Why have you stopped?
Are you he?
The idiotic man,
who dare scold me?"
She looked down upon him.
minimized by her gaze.
Her shadow cast over him,
with a midnight haze.
"Y-yes ma'mn, it was I,
who shouted from here.
To call you down,
and face my fear."
The words were bold,
stronger than any man.
But not even the people knew,
of this man's plan.
"You filthy wretch!
Do you know who I am?
I am the Rosy-Nosed Queen!
You aren't worth a damn!
You can't surpass me!
For I am fear itself!
I am what hides deep inside,
your cerebral shelf!"
Her words were like a blade,
that left an invisible laceration.
But no blood did spill,
no crimson did hasten.
Instead the silence shouted,
in etherial rage.
Each set of eyes,
locked in an ocular cage.
But then, the dog from earlier,
came 'round his master.
Except toward the feeble man,
did he run faster.
"You see my queen,
this dog has been faithful,
a loyal friend, indeed.
I have seen what you do,
and have heard what you say,
against your very creed.
Now the tides, they sway,
in a direction, unchangeable.
Tonight, my queen,
your head will adorn my table."
With a rage, blinding,
his shadow cut through parts of the sun.
As he lept through the incendiary air,
he pulled out a gun.
With accuracy, sharpened,
and a soul detrimental.
He shot the rosy-nosed girl,
right through her temple.
She fell to the ground,
in shame and defeat.
Her blood began to pool,
around the worker's feet.
A victory, macabre,
a triumph, sanguineous.
Her face held a visage,
of the upmost hideous.
From her spine did he rip,
the now limp head.
"Tonight my friends,
the Queen is dead."
Her hair between his fingers,
the scalp begging for slack.
Now now the Rosy-Nosed Queen,
only saw black...