Hello again! It's been nearly three months...sorry. I have here for your reading pleasure ANOTHER POEM! Slightly different style than the last, not sure what it's called.

Enjoy!

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Once up on a time

In the land without a rhyme

Mirkwood, a place by name

Which by day seemed fairly tame

Its prince was walking, close to night

Taking heed, and taking fright

Lost, it seems without a hope

Nor facial cream, nor bar of soap

His hair was messed, which only proved

That he was frantic, the only clue.

His elven face was still placid

Only his jawbone hung there flaccid

Skittering leaves at his feet theron

Served to startle Thranduil's son

Running faster to put behind

The noises that were on his mind

Spiders noting movement there,

Attracted by his shining hair.

Moving now through leaféd bough

They jumped and knocked the princeling down

Wrapped in silver cobwebs strung

Reflecting no light, moon or sun

Hanging wrongways elf sees now

Two fair siblings in a row

Attracted he their stares so shocked

But stared they instead at hole-y socks

Foot-tubes silken, wove with care

From mountain sheep's wooly hair

"What goes on here," said elder brother

"I do not know!" exclaimed the other.

So crept they close to deadly tree

But spider movement prompted flee

Arachnids then upon themselves

Took the fate of those three elves.

Night upon the forest fell

Upon the scene that I now tell

A feast surpassed by none before

The trees besplattered, blood and gore

They dined upon his cultured flesh

And blooded wine, declared "Da beshh!"

Morning dawned so fair and cold

O'er mountains high and caverns old

Three skulls strewn in callous glee

Beneath the base of one lone tree

Spider army tramp towards

The elven halls to dine on lords

The feast last night, so tender, sweet

Speed on now the eight-fold feet

No contest there, they enter on

And home-like webs are wove and spun

No elf is safe from grey threads sticky,

All of their ends are gross and icky.

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Thanks for reading!