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'Twas the night before Christmas.
A secret was looming.
The lust in my heart had become too consuming.
Make no mistake, no blood do we share,
But my guardian was the man whose cross I did bear.
With his icy coal eyes, and peppermint lips,
Under mistletoe I stood, no chance to resist.
For it was on none other than this cold silent night,
That I gave into wrong, and it felt so damn right.
