wicked and beauty

the jollies to gander in the fey forest, lights go whirling by, with the pounding of hoofs and dreaded creak of a drawing bow, to gander on thy pearl white skin, haloed by a golden wave that descends down white plains to the very roots of pearlescent mounds. thy own hand sways to and fro over your body, to gander with deadly intent, and without missing a breath, to draw back that bow, with one last examination of true beauty, i release, the whistle is music, the thump is death, a ruby snake conquers the pearl, true beauty is dead,