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Having a dance with the Devil,
Enchanting octaves recurring.
Ballet reigned on the floor,
In response to a sonorous sonata.
Carried away was she,
Into the mountain of forgetfulness.
Or perhaps ephemeral pleasure,
Seemed too pleasant a fun to forego.
There came the fall of an heroine:
Unequal yoke was her bane.
The self-induced burden,
Had meandered her steps into the woods.
Groping in the night,
Darkness sooted her woolen linen.
As dark as tar it became,
Bearing semblance with the seed of corruption.
The beauty of a million years,
Is now a beast in a matter of minutes.
The earnest desire of kings,
Is now detested by the least amongst paupers.
The chaste virgin so adored,
Is now a woman of easy virtue.
A seed corrupted,
A dream shattered-
Like the most fragile of china wares,
Into a thousand little pieces.



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