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Blood splatter, haunting frames
Crazy hatter, twisted games
Along the path hops a rabbit with no eyes
Yet there he hops blinded by lies
Little white rabbit, ticking clock
Such a bad habit, yet it won’t stop!
The urge to slay, a craving so uncontained
How I must say,  it was tragic to learn how few remained
Mad hatter, how many did you ****?
Does it matter where you learned this skill?

— The End —