Queen Grimhilde

August 30, 2012
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A shallow grave, you will be lain
For all the trouble you've caused me
All of your beauty, all of your kindness
gone like dry leaves in the wind
I do believe I've won this game
So excruciating
And here I sit
merely waiting
for the last breath to dust your rosy lips
The blood to drain from your porcelain skin
The glorious moment when your perfect chest rises one last time
And then, I shall ask my mirror
Who is the fairest of them all?
And it's reply will be 'You, your majesty'

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