Alabaster Skin

 

Moonbeams kiss her tresses and locks

They tumble and flow gently into her bosom

Alabaster skin as fine as any porcelain

She prostrates neath the willow tree

Eyes closed just waiting for a kiss

Perhaps from Prince of Neverland

To wake this Sleeping Beauty from slumber

Reality awaits you with the realisation

Death is merely your romantic muse

You are here to snap a crime scene photo

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