Days filled with joy, orange sunsets on summer nights,
but slowly, and then all at once, they turn red.
In the next moment it's over, and you can breathe in the breeze; Fresh Air.
Free from bindings I carefully crafted, out of a stifling cell, gone is The Warden.
You know what they say, "you and me and the devil makes three", but you're the devil in disguise.
And honey, I'm not in **** no more.
I'm really glad I made the titles of these past poems a pair- because Orpheus is how I used to feel but now it's Eurydice, or at least it's where I'm getting to- not giving a **** about them or being under their control.