My devotion, my muse,

Lying on the table,

Declared perfectly stable;

All the malignance, the mystery,

Safely exorcised

And disposed of.

Opened up, dissected,

No more than was expected,

Repugnant and rejected

In her plainness.

All resistance been replaced,

Each enigma been erased,

Every facet been refaced

Into an image

Unextraordinary.

All her greatness now is gone,

Like a light has been turned on

In a room holding the secrets of the world.

My passion, love, my muse,

Used and then abused,

A cure that was refused

For a disease -

An angel without wings,

Voice that no longer sings,

Each and all of these things

She has become;

My muse and my devotion

Emptied of each notion

That I loved, that I needed,

That inspired.