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She, as the roots, stands tall,

A tendril from an evil beast,

Far grown from darkest heart,

Her pure blood form lies far away,

The softest eye shines bright

And sparkles with the hope of life.

A happy light grows strong,

So widely smiles of untold glee

Do cast her friendly face,

To grant the glow of beauty true,

With cheers to echo out

Of laughter soft with caring tint.

The End

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