Once Upon a Death


And, yes, I have killed fairy tales
On my own white braying steed;
Yes, I have found in vellum script
A recipe for love- if love were
Cooked, and garnished with SWeetened cream.

For I have stayed too long confined
In towers with- oh!-
Such unsightly modernity,
And my stepmother was not so lax:
Every summer, my winter curls
Would be dead shavings at my feet.

Has logic ever felt its' pride
As the poison that slew fairies?
Every second step I'd watch one fall
While I slid down gilded banisters,
Craving to unearth a secret door
Or if, although less propitious,
My magpie's smuggled larder key.

There's crumbs I've left to trace my path,
And poisoned apples I've left for trash;
There's stories I've but scorned once or twice
After gifting them all of my heart:
Still rendering my fancy's grief-
No vice shall ever eclipse belief.

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