S is for Shelley

Drawn to the name of a rebel poet from a lost world

Joining your voice with Byron’s in song

You raise a rebel tune to the heavens in Paradise

Frightening the timid flock of fawning human sheep

Lowering their heads for fear of the Goddess

And her chosen agents, the pale lords

You spark one particular lord’s hunger

Inciting curiousity amongst the ranks 

He takes you into his personal cage

You and Byron become his trapped songbirds

Beating your wings frantically against the bars

Trying to take flight in fearful awareness

You’re sensing what’s On the Other Side of the Mask

What lies within Lord Ruthvyn’s surreal maze

The opulence, art, and treasures tucked away in corners

Hanging on the walls you cannot find twice

Even as you fumble your way towards the exit

Coming closer to the monster at the center of the maze. 

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