Rotten To the Core
The Prince stood in the doorway, looking at the coffin carved from glass raw,
He had travelled miles and miles to save her life, her seven friends anxious at the Wrong.
Her visage pale as the dress that she wore, hands folded, clutching an apple core,
Ebony black hair surrounded her face so fair, her lips so soft, her sleep so long.
The gent so Charming, his horse neighing outside, he stepped over to the Damsel’s translucent bed,
Then, he eased the glass top over to lean ‘gainst the casket, to expose the lovely one fair.
He leaned over her body, touched her face, and neared to kiss her lips so red
Gagging, shoving a mint Tic Tac between her lips, he exclaimed, “Seeya in five, Snowy, I'm gonna get some air!”
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