Pricked her finger on the eye of a needle,

Blood so raw, so sweet,

She fell into the deepest of sleep

Now encased in glass on a bed of roses

They call her beauty and mourn her slumber like the crystal has turned to a coffin

And the brick walls of her highest tower are smothering her body,

A hundred years pass before a prince lays his most gentle kiss on the lips of a dead girl

He graces her cheek like his touch will turn her frozen limbs to gold

In his mind, he dreams of her skin under his hands and her eyes fluttering in a coy smile,

Docile, she is beautiful

Obedient, she is fragile

Submissive, she is a princess

When dead girl rises with an earth shuttering gasp, delicate lips shuttering over a clanking jaw

She finds her teeth are heavy in her mouth and the ache in her skin has spread to the core of her bones

And as the prince runs a hand over her shaking shoulder, she does nothing but scream

She tells him her body may be frozen but the right still belongs to her,

Sleeping beauty is equipped with enough venom that the anger can drip from her lips,

She did not ask for this,

In a fit of terror, he fleas from her side, because she is no longer his silent beauty

And as her muscles clench and retract, a descent down the stairs to the bottom of her castle

Sleeping beauty feels sun on her frosty white skin

The prince is nowhere to be found

But the only gold she needs is that in her crown

Wide awake, vibrant, wanderess eyes

Pink stained cheeks,

The stars and night do not come to greet her with sleep

But address her by name,

It whispers, oh Aurora, I would have done the same