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He avoided wicked women
Especially witches and strippers,
But he couldn't resist a pair of naked legs
Shod in ruby slippers.
A twisted
Of grime.
No metre,
Or rhyme.
An art-form
For those
Without talents,
And the lonely
Who lack
I like the noise he makes
When he's feeding
And I like the way his lips move
When he's reading,
But what's not great
And what I hate,
Is the way he whimpers
When he's pleading.
A golden hair plucked from his head,
He cries out at its loss,
A finger to his rosy lips,
There's a bit of beef I need to floss.
Cupid's arrow doesn't miss,
I lift your face for one more kiss,
With moonlight on a silver ***** -
A whetstone sharpened razor blade.

Six months ago they found you dead
But now, at last, I have your head.
Fat and frilly,
Gilded Lilly
Is as fabulous as she is rich.
Platinum hair,
On a silver chair,
A teeny-****** bit kitsch.

The jewel of her joy
Is an eighteen year old boy
In butterfly wings and a dress.
A doe-eyed princeling,
Gemstones twinkling,
As she feeds him from her breast.
A paper-cut
On a fingertip,
The autumn days
Of a relationship,
The prince of Egypt
You once thought cute,
Dragging behind,
Like a concrete boot,
Talking to you
As if you were his mother,
Your gift to him:
A baby brother!
The fairground of youth
Rusts and goes bad,
Remembering Christmas
And being nailed by his dad.
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