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    Gazing at what could have been
    A lethal doze of her fertile pose
    What will all these inklings mean
    If I reveal how deep the spiral go
    Crystal fecund fancies flew
    Emerged through blood-red veils
    Sky-blue yet dead grey - the winds blew
    Forced my lofty head to lean
    Is this lass a fevered rose?
    Is she not sinless and pristine?
    Is it not always gold what glows?
    She hides her hideousness in evergreens
    But be cautious her blade is keen
    When held down by an angel pose
    Her talons can't be foreseen
    When the nightmare initiates from a rose
    And this hale nostalgia grows...

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