famous not for my story or me
but for my blessing and curse,
a guardian and isolator.
my only remaining presence
is that twisted moment of my demise,
a remnant of what once was mine.
my wise thoughts tumbled in disarray down
and out from my tormented body,
lost amid the waves tender embrace
and the winds fleeting chase.
my screaming disembodied,
dispersed and recollected over time,
a haunting memory.
defence stripped away,
my voice rendered mute.
now speechless i scream in agony,
why can’t you hear me?
when my head fell my voice fell with it
leaving only an eerie symphony of silence.
my stone statues stand with soundless grace
witnessing and rejoicing at my downfall,
whilst i roll with burning quiet
through endless time and space.
all that is left of me now is
my legacy reduced to rubble
but who emerged from that rubble
but a naive and youthful boy
claiming victory and immortality.
in a twisted dance of fate
he brandished a sword and a shield,
the facade of any hero.
he tore apart my existence
for glory and fame,
whilst i bore the weight
of the gods' cruel games.
yet in his triumph, my suffering laid,
silenced, stifled, in shadows i fade away.
once extraordinary, now harmless and plain,
a victim of the fates, in my home i remain.
i am medusa
will you listen to me now?
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