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Feb 18
Flaming tears fall from her eye
With knowledge that she will soon die
Her sisters, they do weep
They know what they wish to seek

Beasts in fur, search for prey
With scythe in hand, wish to slay.
A swift slice across her belly
She falls smoothly, elegantly

Vampires roam about the day
To find her sap and dig their fangs
Into her firm and smooth skin
Draining, leaving her limp and thin

Ghosts float over head
Releasing toxins which have led,
Many of her sisters to perish
Their memories are cherished

Those who survive are often bitter
with needles on their shoulders, fine in figure
Firm, they do stand tall
For them, tears do not fall
Written by
Chris Lazzaro
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