Some would call her a fairy. Others a siren. She feeds on the desperation of men. Seeks them out at their lowest, draws them in with her ancient, and mystical beauty. Her intentions are bad, driven by a relentless thirst. Always searching, always lethal. And when the lost poet whispers into the night, she lay dreaming, enchanted by his words. But never tempted to attract, for she already knew not even her alluring vibes could seduce a man that has nothing but his own words. And the lonely writer has already experienced true bliss, stumbled upon his own nirvana, and will spend the rest of his days attempting to recreate that moment, attempting to rediscover himself. No, the fairy preys on the man who has still not yet glimpsed inner enlightenment. For his soul is still within evil's touch. Happily ever after is really just an illusion the mind creates to keep the soul from realizing it's already over, accepting that life has came and went would bring on a tidal wave of depression, destroying every last bit of aspiration. The fairy plays right in with that awareness.