Locked in her room,

going through fits of maddness.

She screams like a banshee as she tears at her hair.

The room around her begins to change,

to grow brighter but dimmer at the same time,

objects coming to life,

the room spinning and swaying.

She screams and flys out the door

half-running,

half-tripping,

never looking back.

She runs to the only place her feet will take her

as her eyes go blind from the tears.

Finally she stops and

beholds a place were she has never been before.

A glorious forest,

trees so high they seem to touch god,

and ferns so delicate and perfect

that they seem to hold the keys to the faerie realm.

She falls on her back,

lying gently on the cast down leaves of the Sequoia above.

The moonlight flashes over her eyes

for one singular moment,

and quite momentarily her eyes turn to mirrors.

She is trying hard to stay awake,

but soon relizes her eyes are putting up no resistance to sleep.

All she can think is,

just try to stay awake,

just to stay awake.

Her body begins to go through a sort of transformation

and a series of fits,

as she lay in the forest.

Her skin turns frightfully icy and pale,

her eyes grow large and dialated.

Her face slack,

and blood ran cold,

she seemed to all but die.

In her last breath she echoed the forest with but a whisper,

if only i could remain a pure soul.