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They told Miss picket not to go,
they told her not to leave,
for folks had been disapearing every sunday eve,
she paid no mind to city folk,
and stode right out of town,
all they found the next day was her silver gown.
Her mother wept,
her sister cried,
her husband went right up and died!
but she was there,
quite alive,
but not quite herself inside.
They found her next day by the road,
she was nibbling on a rabbit,
realy quite a nasty habbit,
no one knows how she got that way,
but they shot her then and there,
and until now no one but you and me have cared.
- Title: the transformation
- Artist: rana404
- Description: this is a poem about the unfornutate tale of Miss Picket.
- Date: 01/24/2009
- Tags: transformation
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