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A life lived wickedly does not pass without consequences, even for a fairy.
Poetry
Fantasy
She didn't wish to be a wicked fairy
with steaming dragons guarding her door,
Not in her heart of hearts or dream of dreams,
Or wish to dwell in clammy towers of stone,
rising so high the tops brushed the clouds,
In truth, the heights gave her vertigo each time she
climbed the stairs, or paused to gaze out a window,
While traces of sulfur in the air, by-products of the
dragons' foul wheezing, made her sneeze.
She didn't wish to be a wicked fairy
enchanting spinning wheels for birthday tokens,
Not in her heart of heart or dream of dreams,
Or wish to be left behind after the pleasure of love's kiss
wakes the princess slumbering on her satin pillow,
In truth, she often gazed upon a certain star, glimpsed
through windows up so high they made her head spin,
While traces of ungranted wishes, by-products of
a life lived wickedly, broke her heart.
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