Once upon a time,

There was a beautiful girl.

Her hair smelled of rotten pine,

Skin rotting off in whirls.

 

"Beauty," the Prince said

Unspoken on her desiccated face.

For although she was quite dead,

The maggots danced in endless grace.

 

The dusty flowers lining her grave,

Browned and soiled silk,

Upheld the girl, staved,

Body at a sickening tilt.

 

Lying where she landed,

Black hair matted down,

The Dwarves had left her stranded,

Upon her flower crown.

 

Once blue and yellow, full of life,

This young Princess danced,

Now she was still and devoid of strife,

Beneath the Prince’s glance.

 

He knelt and softly spoke,

To the broken corpse at his feet,

“Where you are, there is hope,”

And stood in summer heat.

 

Taking a fond look at her,

He smiled warm and true,

Before, to air, he said, “Sure,”

Planning to meet her soon.

 

It was true- he was late,

But now nothing more could be done,

That is, unless he took on her state,

Jumping, where she had jumped from.