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Soul collecting limerick :ts mission:Her perch is a tree as black as night,
The glow of the lost souls her only light.
Her voice rings out a haunting tune,
A tune she got from a book in a dusty room.
Her little helper flapping his wings in distress,
But being blatantly ignored by his mistress.
The glowing souls gather around,
Around eleven or twelve could be found.
One by one they are put into jars,
Just as her voice lingers, singing the final bars.
A spell to attract the lost souls of children,
And to give her the voice like that of a siren.
Like moths to a flame they all came,
To the fairy that wasn't quite tame.
A wicked grin cracked across her gentle face,
And what were once friendly, were wild eyes in their place.
Her wings were frayed and colored purple and blue,
And dark magic in her body was spreading through and through.
Bagging her catch she set back off to the Store,
So that she may kick the Reaper out the door.
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