A poem about a fairytale


1. Fairytale

Through the mist and the fog,

the ages of dread,

comes a glittering path,

one I fear we must tread.


The rich and the poor,

the old and the young,

shall all come together,

together as one.


When the beast first strikes,

you cannot hide,

through the destruction it causes,

on long legs it hikes.

Its claws are sharp,

Its teeth cause death,

hide the children,

or they soon will all be dead.


But as if by magic,

a hero will rise,

an unlikely sort,

but with a glint  his eyes.

His heart is pure,

and his mind so clear,

but confidence is lacked,

which could bring the end they fear.


But if a maiden,

with long flowing hair,

comes to his aid in his moment of despair

the light will shine

and love shall be found,

the hero will discover,

his confidence returned.


The hero,

armed with only a rock,

brings down the beast 

in one single shot.

The people celebrate from miles around

but alas the hero

is nowhere to be found.


He lies in a cave

in a mountain somewhere

combing the maidens golden fair hair.

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