I woke up one day in a strange land of paper and ink,
My thoughts rushed rampant and my cheeks not pink,
A group of shades rushed me, they did!
Getting past them I ran without wit,
It took no time but I had to sit,
Not for a second, a minute or two, it took a while for me to be fit,
Even though I am a Faerie, Now sit.
I have very few possessions. Nowt but a shell, some bones and a pouch.
Ah.. I forgot to tell you... My pouch is magical. It contains a variety of different herbs and powders I draw at will.
My fingers normally find stuff like food spice or flowers but on occasion I draw more.. interesting things...
Fire is my enemy, it burns all in its path, leaving nothing but ashes behind...
Rain is nice, it would cool me as I ran in my forests..
A gentle breeze would push me on my wings but ground was hard to traverse.
Lots of the time I spent in my forest was learning about magic and herbs.
Under the leaves of the forest I spent my days learning and my nights thinking of the day and sleeping.
Now I am in this strange land, hoping i can get back to my forest...
Enough poems.. I am bad at them and they take too long.
Let me tell you about myself. I am a Faerie, not the things of fairy tales and old witch stories but the things of beauty and grace.
I am small, my wings thin and green with sparkly green decorations. I can grow and shrink as I will.
I am normally warm to strangers and.. comfortable with friends.
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