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Kind, Morbid Fate

Rapunzel’s great wrath was not much to behold,
For mere mortal suffering is bound to grow old.
Devious Cinderella was never much sad,
Her mind was so twisted it all seemed so bad,
Pale, fragile Snow was unsound in the head,
Always delirious and withering in bed,
Oh, lovely Beauty, her song was so sweet,
The beasts of the forest laid at her feet.
Darling small Gretel with a skip in her step,
Was strangled and choked by the hands of the dead,
Who, in pure malice, gathered their souls,
And all the fair maidens were slaughtered by ghouls.





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