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Bathory's Bath

Countess Bathory looks in the mirror
Sees inside her deepest fear
Lines encroaching on her face
Age banishing her body's grace

The palace echoes with her wrath
The count is thus quick to draw her bath
Virgin's blood poured to the rim
Sweetly rising to the rim

But the count forgets the baby oil
So Bathory's blood begins to boil
She becomes a crone, starts to scream
And Her Vileness goes up in steam.
Written by crowfly
Published
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