Snow

Your skin was pale; your lips were red,
“Our home is yours”, that’s what we said,
We took you in, you helped us too,
You cleaned our house, you made us stew,
My brothers and I didn’t know your name,
Didn’t know your story; didn’t know your game,
On that night we were asleep in bed,
When you put a bullet through Grumpy’s head,
Then you killed Happy, Bashful, and Doc,
So I ran and hid in the grandfather clock,
Sleepy and Sneezy soon met your gun,
Of my brothers, I was the luckiest one,
The blood stained the carpet where they did lie,
I knew right then that you needed to die,
I lifted my pick-axe, brought it to your head,
A few swings later, you were also dead,
Your body lay lifeless on the floor,
I stepped over it and walked out the door,
It’s a mystery, Snow; what happened to you,
Still nobody knows. Except me. I do.