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Red as blood, black as ebony,
born a child into mortality;
could not be saved, was choked – reborn as white as snow.
“Mirror, mirror on the wall,
for it so happens that you know
the name of whom the King shall call."

The Ruler over all, saw in your heart but black,
thus sent his Son on donkeyback.
His Majesty clambered the tow’r, made it known:
“My Kingdom, Dear, is now your own.”
Escaping the walls, about Him you learnt:
He is the cornerstone, the foundation firm.
He is the safehouse built of bricks,
as one blow destroys what’s straw, what’s sticks.

For others you spun straw to gold,
but this brought forth your nature cold;
demanded sacrifices in return, that’s when
it created a monster among the men.
The King after all, did not give up,
gave his Son in bread and cup –
for so He indescribably loved you,
the wick’d beast became lovable too.

Grateful you now give away
what’s left of bread, of dress threadbare;
till stars from heav’n in excess rai’
and treasure you with Rich and Fair.
Royal blood flows through your veins
and yet in shame the mask remains –
ashamed of the low-life you have led
and the evil that was once a threat.

All mysteries solved when stabbed - you die
and bare on a bed of roses you will lie.
Once upon a time you took a leap of faith:
He is the reason in time you’ll reawake.
The reason, before death you’ll not need to shake,
hence not despair when mockery and laughter
ridicule your Happy Ever-After…

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