Keepsakes, one hair from each need sater she takes, none forever
She sends the satyrs away before it gets too late, one’s never
Enough but they’re never allowed stay, even when the option’s available
They can never think they’re together, not now and not ever
Even when it might sound like something one might like
That’s when it’s time to lower the spike
Keep garlic spice and spare stakes on the bible by the bedside.
Alchemisland 
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