"Listen, little prince,
for this luck has guaranteed
that you suffer worse a fate
than those you accompany.
I will tell you this now,
to increase your misery:
Your precious wife is not here,
if that is what you seek,
but with your marriage,
and a ring,
the curse's circle is complete.
We suffer this, all of us,
be us king or be us queen.
As the oldest roses wilt,
we must test the newest green.
We must cull the sickly buds
to strengthen our sovereignty,
which is why you must die,
slowly and horribly.
Her love for you is weakness.
You have taken her from me.
You have sullied up the path
I had paved for progeny.
Now the curse will **** you both,
I its agent, happily."

As The Queen relished joy
in confessing her misdeeds,
the men became alert,
and regained identity.
They gathered up, left unnoticed
by the eyes of royalty,
‘till The Queen had ended speech,
then they sprang suddenly.
Small they were, and weak at best,
but even in infirmity,
the seven men were strong enough
to give my blade an opening.

There was no hesitation:
No fatal laxity.
I plunged my sword into the heart
of my kingdom's worst disease.
She died, spitting thorns,
never knowing amity.

I spent the day with the men,
and with much solemnity,
I buried the evil queen,
and one by one,
my company.