2. Porcelain halls

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Here I sit, on my throne, down these porcelain halls. 

Casting echoes loud enough; for them to deafen all. 

Bellows, roars, cries of pain; fearing  big and small. 

Miasma; deadly; skulks unseen; forth, at a creeping crawl. 

Killing plants and warping wood, discouraging them all. 

From stepping in to take my crown; from planning my down—fall. 

Here I sit still all alone, down these porcelain halls. 

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