(A Not So) Fairy Tale.

(Prequel)



So there was a story of a little lamb;

so confused and cute and stray she went,

but came a fox with a noble hand,

and off they to see the heavenly land.



Until a time the fox been called,

but slowly and sure, and off he go,

his path so silent and yet so cold,

but less and more, and more or so.



He left behind a crying lamb,

but day by day he felt resent.



Hence came, the lion, with all his might,

shone upon his head, a light so bright.

He thrust his word, or he thought he would,

"Come with me, darling," he whispered, "you shouldn't be crying."



So little lamb went with the mighty lion, off into a castle of crude iron,

"Here's my friend, lets all meet up, forget the fox-- he's all messed up."



Upon the lamb, a fine white snake,

with eyes all slanted, all composed, not fake.



Happy they be, tears on little lamb per se,

The lion stood tall, happy-- and all.



But the fox is not stupid, it has all been clear,

the lion  played cupid, but the truth-- a liar.



Long the fox thought, lion was a friend,

his game was caught, and trust had bend.



Trap been played, and the lion fell,

now to avenge, the fox thought well.



Came back the fox, with all his begging,

kneel upon the lamb, he cried; asking,



"Please, little lamb o' please forgive me,

ease your rage, lets all be merry."



The lion stayed out, not a word were spout,

"The fox shouldn't know, his rage would aglow."



Still wandering, o' the lion about,

with all his heart filled with some doubt,



Solemnly stand, thought the lion in the end,

"Lets keep this at hand, we can still be friend."



But fox had seen, all the things should be seen,

to get back a pristine, a revenge so pristine,

not ever once, the fox been stabbed,

but he not back up,



enemy blood in his jab.