I do not wish to touch the surface
or purify the darkness
I demand the depth of your abyss
to burn like candlelights
to liquify and be reborn
Circe
I could cast a spell
and kindle a firestorm
a temptress with eyes of clay
a crafty siren with the kiss of death
the nightingale would hush
You might suffocate
or be released
the riddle is tempting, it stirs you
something about the possibility
of leaving
makes you want to stay
you are bewitched
