madness, melancholy ✓

Bedtime Stories

Bedtime Stories
19th January 2019

Bloodied tissues strewn across a rose-coloured bed.
Eyes on Prince Kit slipping Ella's foot into the glass slipper,
Beautiful bedtime stories, cradling her heart, icing her head,
Reality, a dreadful, destructive age-old Ripper.

But soon her eyes would fall to the tissues on the floor,
And she'd remember him; his anger and her surrender.
Her head would dip, her fingers tremble, her eyes blur,
And her feet; dead weights that hauled her under.

Saccharine smiles, masked mutilations and a veiled vow;
Those were the poison laced bullets he chose to use.
Each loaded with care and fired at "that ugly, stupid cow,"
Only she would ever know his kindness was all a ruse.

Yes, her bedtime stories would be her magic sand,
And forever would they be tainted by his bloodthirsty hand.

****