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Fairytale

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Are they a given, the jewels from your lips?
The poison apples hanging from golden trees
The adders slinking, coiled, from their position
Before dropping down silently and slithering away
The tables laden with feasts fit for royalty
Before it disappears without a bite touched.
The Cheshire cat with a demon's smile,
The flickering fairies darting out of sight
And the queen of this world
Who has my eyes, yet they're cold as ice.
Are they a given, if you don't believe in them?





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