Labrinth

She spun around in a dress of golden thread,

as the merchants sold their last loaves of bread.

Seen by none, shunned by all, no one saw her as a doll.

She was born of a saddened curse.

As she watched thieves snatch from satchel and purse.

Bandits come and bandits go,

As a broken king is wrought with woe.

His wife, the queen, was maddened with lust,

She never was loved more than an empty room of dust.

The gods themselves were disgusted with the royal three.

Sending from the heavens, a beast hidden behind a tree.

Upon this beast, the queen’s eyes did feast.

Curing the incurable lust from a queen that once did mourn, a terrible curse was born.

A child of flesh and fur, who truly was a monstrous cur.

He was imprisoned in a maze, in a blind slumbering haze.

Until the day, a neighboring prince did stay.

The now-cruel king maddened with hate,

devised an obsidian horror of a gate.

Seventeen men, and seventeen women.

All worth more than they were forced to undergo,

They were led to their doom; all with the innocent eyes of a doe.

Wracked with tears of horrifying displeasure,

at the wicked blight the king and queen made with measure,

the good princess waltzed sleepfully into the maze, made daff by the haze.

She awoke to the sound of screaming ,

the prince of a neighboring kingdom, next to her bleeding.

Wrapping him in a silken shawl, she hid him from the sight of all.

They made their way through the maze, yet her golden dress did blaze.

Showing the monster where his victims laid,

The princess saw her error her dress could have paid.

Ripping and tearing the dress asunder

She did not hear the hooves of her monstrous brother

Blinded long ago, the monster could not see, his loving sister who did plea .

Without a choice and a silent tear, the Princess allowed the prince to sheer

the head of the beast, a brother that all knew least.

As the beast lay dying, her tears soothed his pain,

to this, the living curse felt disdain.

As it shook the maze, the princess was forever set in a craze.

Running nude through every corridor, she made her way towards the maze's core.

Interwoven in a newly spun tapestry,

To the foreign prince, the princess did decree:

“Take what is left of my mind, my soul.

Make for yourself an escape, in the shape of a bowl.”

The prince, her words he never did heed,

A contorted chaos of ramblings that were truly a creed.

Her dress still decorates the halls of that place

The kingdom fell around her bones, threaded with gold and lace.

Nothing is left of the kingdom but a labyrinth, protected by a garden of gold hyacinth.

The princess’ ghost still lingers in the maze, trapped inside her maddened ways.

Until many years forever, becomes tiring for the gods of this tragic endeavor.