Once fair of form, a sylvan grace, Now twisted in poison’s vile embrace

Once fair of form, a sylvan grace, She danced ‘neath boughs of ancient tree, Her eyes, the forest’s tender face, Now clouded dark with cruelty.

The roots that once did bind her deep, Now twist in poison’s vile embrace, Her song, once soft, now makes hearts weep, A siren’s call that leads to waste.

Her bark, once pale as morning light, Now bears the scars of shadow’s touch, Where once the forest bloomed in bright, Now withers ‘neath her fingers' clutch.

The breeze that once did kiss her hair, Now carries woe, and dread, and fear, For in her soul, no love doth fare, Only the thirst for death draws near.

Beware the trees where shadows creep, For in her wrath, the woods do weep.