You can't tell, really.
That this isn't right.
The apple's red.
And the flesh is all white.

It's a bit of cyanide.
Perhaps arsenic too.
She'll have to open up wide
And have a chew.

Here she comes now
With that innocent smirk.
Oh why am I even doing this,
I must be berserk.

That dress,
With blue and yellow and white.
Those ruby-red lips,
Glistening in the light.

I walk out to her,
And offer her the fruit.
I watch her take a bite,
Then land next to my foot.

Here the prince comes
On his great white horse.
He'll kiss her now, and make her his wife.

She'll have a better life.