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Snow White: The Real Story, a poem by Karen Fried

Snow White: The Real Story
by Karen Fried

Pure as the driven snow,” so they thought.
All day long, I cook and clean up their mess.
Shifty, Stupid, Dumpy, Frumpy, Loser, Smoker
and Late to dinner are turning my hair gray.
I could wring my lovely stepmother’s neck! Hi ho, hi ho,
out the door you go with a shove shove here and
a shove shove there. What I wouldn’t give to slip
a cigarette in my ruby red lips. If this forest had a little
sun, I wouldn’t have to endure this creamy white
complexion. Oh, an old woman in rags begging at my door.
Get off my porch! I don’t want your rotten apple. Here’s one
for you. Bull's-eye!

Now about that perfect prince,
I’ll let you in on a little secret:
He snores, throws his royal robes
on the frozen stone floor
and never cleans up after his horses.
He also never stokes
my fire, if you get my drift.

From Karen Fried:I was born in Indianapolis and have lived here most of my life.”