And that’s how she died.

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And that’s how she died.
Strangled. I tell you.

Ne’er seen a joyous day.
Ne’er been merry or gay.

Too consumed trying to be bright
And now consumed by her own plight.

I told her “Life isn’t that twisted a wine,
Just try to see it from a straight line.”

But she couldn’t be pleased
For her soul had started to disease.

Happyness had to spark
To see in the dark.

She didn’t spark
For she didn’t like Dark.

Dark was diseased,
Very much in need to be pleased.

So he followed Happyness
Hoping to brighten his darkness.

But Happyness wouldn’t spark
Coz she didn’t like Dark.

She was a selfish, wicked woman,
I tell you this
For no one would leave like this:

But that’s how she left.
Quietly, in the middle of the night,
Leaving behind her dark knight.

The knight in all his might,
Decided to take revenge.

And that’s how she died.
Strangled. I tell you.

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