Once upon a time,

In a faraway land,

Her face had no kind,

His hate had no hand.

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To build up the tension,

In the mountain nearly climed,

Her smile had detention,

His sad had been mimed.

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The dilemmna to be commenced,

In the centre of make,

Her legs were offenced,

His mind was a bake.

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The conclusion was that,

In the large of a palace,

Her arms were a bat,

His kind was of malace.

And they all lived happily ever after,

Isn’t that how it is meant to end?