Tale Of A Sylph

In The Forest Of Bewitchment
Of which hath been mentioned afore,
A Sylph of silver lining weeps,
whilst residing upon leaf-shot floor.

Her tears fallen darkened her dress,
Which woven through with ribbons
left by Ouphes that wandered less
since feet of them had pain been given.

Floats on by a dragonfly,
who then beguiled thinks twice,
And turns around falls from the sky
And blinks at poor Sylph thrice.

"Whence you came to this part of 'witchment?
'Tis no home for someone so dainty,
Per'aps forthwith you should cause commitment
To leave afore you suit not so saintly."

She opened her eyes to him and disputes;
"Say you so? then i shall ask,
Could you soar through brambles and shoots
And tell me if night hath passed?"

The Dragonfly shook his head in repudiation.
"'tis always night in this forest,
But out of magnanimity i offer arbitration.
I'll fetch for you an Ouphe ribbon at least."

"For light is a neccessity when walking the paths
Of the forest of Bewitchment
And in darkness i hear your kind don't last
without some horrific disfigurement."

"no we don't" she soon replied
"We fill to brim of apathy,
then we tend to want to hide
or so i've heard anyway."

The Dragonfly laughed a hearty roar
Though in nature it was heartless.
"Well too late then for you see your
already begat a dark mess!"

The Sylph then gazed upon her hands
That had turned to skeletal wires,
Her skin grew dun, her eyes fell out
the situation dired.

She screamed an echo of silence too
which rang through no ones head,
Any hopes of escaping this cruel fate
had soon been put to bed.

The Dragonfly flew and curtains drew
The Sylph was cast about her solice,
Marionette strings grew from her hands
Her eyes encased in mist.

Blood rang out and shattered her soul
Her skin did crack and shatter,
Her nails did turn to texture of coal
And she slowly and tiredly cried.

Stay away from the Forest Of Bewitchment
Or ye'll cast about you a new,
bout of horrific disfigurement,
and time will only waste you.