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Mallory was a sweet-toothed girl with curls of lavender and gray.
Calories from tarts and sweets, such a tumbly tummy ballerina.
Pink tutus and feathers of goose, draped around her wedge.
Hanging low and swinging arms she played the monkey well.
She fell on her stomach and head did plummet.
She let out an awful smell.
Filled to the brim with candy and gum, she stuck to the wall on her way.
Noxious prancer, clumsy dancer, she stopped the show for the worst.
Ashamed and dreary she wept til weary.
And dashed her dreams away.

She sits on a log with her head in a fog.
Making plans of revenge.
And bloody screams in her little head.
She’ll take some poison and snare some boys in.
And ruin the senior prom.
She may not have powers and the venom will take hours.
But she’ll laugh at havoc and mayhem.
The gowns a mess.
The town in distress.
Red alert on her day out.
She’ll burn down the school.
Pitchforks and mob rule.
Just the start of her pyro date.

Alone in her stupor.
She becomes urban rumor.
The girl with the dragon’s breath.
Black corpses in the killing fields.
And corsages in the dust.
They say if you light a candle and speak her name thrice.
She’ll pay you a visit, but you may not like the price.

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