The Zicker Pookle

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Oh, how the Zicker Pookle lies,
With her puepetric flesh spread across
The icy cave floor.

She yonickly compates not unlike
The pathetic romparge, who slanders
A deathly screech as
Its flaps are torn to sheds by the
Slaughtering claws that crawl from the
Darkness.

The Tree Biggs bomboat at
The scene, swandled by the obscenity
Of the Zicker Pookles glarnished blood.

Her supulated eyes so made for the
Darkness that creeps, her spindly skin
Complements the shivering cold.

She is vile beast frapertated with
The stench of exposed
Death.

The Zicker Pookle will lie with
Her puepetric flesh spread across the
Icy cave floor till the flies suck her
Bone dry and the ground swallows her corpse





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