The Apples Are Poison and the Roses Too
The apples are poison, and the roses too,
Tainted and bitter, rotten and true.
From a heart grown cold,
From a hate so old,
From a soul so twisted, thorny, and wicked.
Should such purity prick her finger,
Or dare to take a bite,
In sleep and endless dream shall she linger,
Instead of death by poisoned spite.
An ode to all those fair young maidens who fell under the wicked curse of a jealous stepmother, affronted sorceress, or scorned witch.