Savvy

As Icarus of old i reached for my secret too soon. It began as a meaningless spark but in my care burned with the evil passion of God's fallen angel. In her cruel spirit it would never move past a shadowy ember glowing cold in her skilled savvy.

Trapped in this conclusion I am weak and unable to understand any grief beyond my own anguish. My half-shut demons cry out to the very resplendency that rejected them when the rivers were young, untried, and corrupt with the touch of elf-like lovers.

So I, in wet and plendeous defeat willingly surrender to the convicted and disaproved waste once called my soul. Give in to the Orpheus-like power she weilds over me. I forced to lay in my tear soaked pain weeping from dawn's enterance till the lamplight has crept past my lonely threshold.