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Rotten Filling

her skin sparkles

below her 1920s pearls

her long tassel skirt

snags on the branches

she bakes her lovely pies

with rotten apples

toasts her crystal glass

sipping her cider champagne

to avoid smearing red lips

she picks her teeth

with cockroach feet and lights

candelabras in tortured trees

begging for a guest

to greet the empty hallways

of her art deco cottage

a flaky golden crust

with life’s worms crawling

within sweet filling

like a princess she is

a witch in the forest wishing

some love might find her

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