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A Harry Potter Poem

Turned upon me in the night,
Treachery before the light,
Cold as steel, sharp as blade, a
final farewell I was bade
But for the strength of my will, could
not avert the final kill
As it was, a close escape- to
bide my time and… wait

For the end must come
To die must either one
Murderer you must become
Or be dead before the sun
/Murderer or victim be
But in between you’ll find no peace



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