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The Guardian

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Elusive figure,
Whispers in the night,
Soft aimless twirls,
Clouds of smoke lest you get to close,
While bright light shall cause her to retreat
Whisper, mist, shroud, disguise
Careful of the lies one might seek to abide
Whisper, frozen, immobile lips
Leaning in for a deadly kiss
Taste the lies and live a life of bliss

Caution, warning, seek not her kiss
For the truth you'll surely miss