Circe 2: Opulent

The dogs begin to smell

Her delightful scent

Where did I take her, what’s my intent?

She’s locked away deeply

She can’t escape

The bars squeal highly, as her fingernails scrape.

The sour shackles bind

Her rusted shame

Protecting my psyche, from going insane.

Self preservation is her claim to fame

As she boasts grace

With absence of empathy, my being defaced.

Her release will not be bartered

Circe, the enchantress

Her frigidity exalted, her feelings repressed.

So she’ll stay here with me

In perpetual vexation

A cerebral prison, with permanent mentation.