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'Give me your password!'
I demanded,
and I opened  Horrors.
Tired, I awoke upon a lonely island beach
And gazed on a Goddess above the shore,
With sea foam hair, coral skin, what dream,
My salt eyes, blinded, open, wanting more,

Conspiring with rays of summer she shone
So bright, this daughter of the sun, we stood
I and my castaway crew, to that siren prone
As she led us to her mansion in the woods.

Her potions tamed the forest wolf and lion,
Spellbinding warrior poets to liven feasts.
Why then must she turn ***** men to swine,
By what she most desired contented least?

Desert falcon, my moly held Pharaohs' breeze
And what nil escape above the wine dark seas.
The name 'Circe' means 'falcon.'  She was a beautiful woman, whose braided red hair resembled flames.
In Greek mythology, Circe was a goddess of magic (or sometimes a nymph, witch, enchantress or sorceress). By most accounts, Circe was the daughter of Helios, the god of the sun.
Circe was renowned for her vast knowledge of potions and herbs. Through the use of magical potions and a wand or a staff, she transformed her enemies, or those who offended her, into animals.

As told in the Odyssey, Hermes told Odysseus to use the holy herb moly to protect himself from Circe's potion and thus resisted it.
the red girl turning blue
means she's falling for you
displays her love's basic
your charm has done the trick.

the blue girl turning red
means your chance is bleak
displays no love is bred
your sight makes her acidic.

the red girl remaining red
the blue girl remaining blue
in this worst case I'm afraid
she's neutrally looking at you.
Craters cradle the eastern horizon.
Asteroids are smashed, passing backwards and
comets rocket passed like a rubber band
whizzing across my face. Our sun brightens
the new gruesome sky that our world lies in.
The smoldering rocks much like contraband,
are invasive, not controlled where they land.
We now know that we were not enlightened.

In darkness, our souls wither away one
by one at the sight of the destruction.
Suddenly, a strange theme occurred among
us. Trust without rules. Now, we can all run
a world not petty, void of corruption.
As one, we will become heroes unsung.
My take on a post-apocalyptic world (in sonnet). Through the destruction, we will find a way to perservere collectively. My apologies for not following iambic pentameter
The artist dragged
a hand across
a city skyline
in the sky
while the paint
was still wet.

— The End —