Lit
The scout tent lit alight,
the dear diary burns bright,
go ask Alice,
mortal fears
no longer children.
Thou shou not weep
Thou shou reap
Strangers lurk in playgrounds
echoing such innocent sounds.
Chain me up sister,
its a red fiery full moon tonight,
and sunken no longer are my eyes
as you dance in the pale of sun,
with the full delicatessen
of glowing freckled numbing pins.
The porous strands of devious sins
My werewolf hairs stand up within
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