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The Wicked with No Name
Marrying my beloved man,
Flame of love burn my heart.
A step-mother I became,
Snow-white the lovely she is.
My hand softly swift across,
Skin against skin,
Of stunning smoothness, white as snow.
To my heart is all hers,
Joy of delight flare my inside,
For a family I found.
But words of envy drift as time grows,
The air dense with rumor it lies,
Such the king was enchanted by my lure.
For that I am foul, wicked, unholy,
So that filthy blood of witchcraft and
poison flow inside my veins.
For why have my happiness
And beauty become sinful?
Now the shade of shame climb upon my skin,
The silky hair, that used to carry
Proudness and rhapsodize,
Now is hidden in its black vale.
Yet snow-white the rosy-fingered,
The beautiful she grows as time is weaved,
And eyes of loneliness lingered.
Sickly sugared wind rises as she wandered,
Delicate flowers bloom where she sauntered.
For her beauty is god’s gift,
For her purity is unbreakable.
And her hair would shine like gold,
And her skin would glow like snow.
Snake of anger rise inside,
In the darkness it softly slide.
Words in whisper is gasoline,
Flame of fury burn on skin.
For my anger is a wild horse.
Even the mirror it mocks me for
My ungodly beauty.
What have I done?
Agony and despair driven by
the soft whispers.
Make the start like the end!
Let thou feel my pain!
Let thou be destroyed for eternity,
For my agony is never conscious of.
And the snake struck,
Once, with the suffocating bodices,
Twice, with the alluring comb,
Thrice, with the irresistible apple.
With only my own eyes watching do I believe,
The beautiful yet detestable of your past-away body,
The tears shedded that can forge a ocean,
The coffin so simple yet stunning in my eyes.
But as smoke or fireworks of moments that last never,
The fates have had her odds in favor.
For her rebirth means my demise forever,
In agony, I strive, red
Shoes ablaze, clingy me!
Dance, dance, for eternity,
Until my skin rupture, my flesh
Rotten.
Stab, stab, stab me to death!
Just let the blade destroy all!
Let it end! The agony
is unbearable!
And finally I shall die in despair,
My souls never resting,
Vexing forever in dreams
Of those whom sent me to hell.
Oh thou Snow-white!
The truth is hidden as a mystery, never
To be discovered,
Fair shall never come,
as only did I, in flame of agony
glinced at your wicked, scornful
smile in your beautiful wedding gown!
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A recasting of the original German myth of Snow-white