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By: Hamlets daughter

Page 1, Little musings about being aware of how things first appear.

Velvet gloves on iron fists,

Leafy green hides deadly mist.

Beware the beauty that whispers forth,

Beckoning your precious thoughts.

For beauty bewitched many a soul, 

Then left it screaming in the cold. 

Tread carefully, weary traveller,

For velvet gloves will unravel her.

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