"I've a story that I'll share,
if you think you can attend.
It seems I know a little more
than you think that I pretend.
There's an evil in your house,
on which your lover's life depends.
There are wheels set in motion,
and it isn't gold they spin."

I cut the air in half
between my sword-blade
and his chin.

"Are you threatening my household?"
I growled; rage built within.
He turned his eyes upward:
Proffered breast to razor's whim.
In his sickness, he seemed ready
to meet his life's end.
Indecision overtook me:
Hesitation, paper thin,
Gave advantage to the monster
that was Rumpelstiltskin.

He pushed it in.

The sword pierced the rotted flesh
unlike any live men
I had ever pierced in battle
when evil commanded them.

He thrusted forward,

the light in his eyes dim,
until nose to nose he faced me;
No sword would divide him.

"Now, please, Mr. Prince,
I'd like to provide hymn,
although the subject of my sermon
isn’t divine sin.
Here stands the castle
that your wife resides in.
What is she doing, sleeping soundly,
Safe within your den?
Yet as we speak,
there is a serpent,
No brute leviathan,
but no less deadly,
I assure you,
or I'm not Rumpelstiltskin."

At this time, with a flourish,
he whipped around in sudden spin,
and the sword within his heart
was cast aside into the glen.
His twisted, mangled face
made a somehow violent grin.
I used that very moment
to turn heel and fly from him.