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Vampirella, the epitome of cadaverous,

the spitting image of death, it was cancerous.

Skin sewn from spider's silk,

churned in a glass of tainted milk.

Cobwebs spun from her hair,

her visage gave me quite the scare.

A phantom risen from the grave,

a blasphemous ache in my heart was engraved.

I never believed your beauty would spoil,

your corpse bloomed from brittle soil.

A portrait of temptful demise,

denied from the light of the cruel sunrise.

In your eyes, I was always yours,

a puppet to dance until I was sore.

You were the thorn of a rose born to wilt,

how could I ever believe that you could be rebuilt?

You infect those who touch you,

you laughed as my misery grew.

You pricked my finger when I plucked you from sadness,

your cold heart has driven me to madness.

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