Within the depth of wicked light, upon the shadows flight, the darkness in the fairies heart, had turned within the night. The spirit in her wicked clutch, was driven to compare, of only those who couldn’t give a thought for those to spare. Within her black and empty solace, dreams could be conspired, upon her wicked wretched touch, that many types retired. Upon her ghost, in forced by prisons, jailed upon the need, her footprints were in shallow graves in sighted to proceed. Her rift upon the land of judgement, left to be desired, upon the open hand of bludgeoned thoughts to be transpired. Upon her gaze, within reflection on her wicked smile, upon the twisted wicked looks, upon her winning guile, upon the distance in such thought, as turns the face of time, upon the seas that reconvene the terms within the mind. Upon conception of her dreams, in means to certain sight, with all the reasons to confess, her images and spite.