hair of serpants, long and wild,
Eyes of flame, that harden the softest of men,
An envy among many, Cursed by jealousy,
Longed for a love that was already taken,
Now she's cursed with knowing love will always be as cold as stone,
She can have the one she wants, just not there soul,
Forever gone under this stone lies their bones,
The blood, the suffering in which she imposed,
adding to her collection, that make up her throne.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Your medusa is so ''horrible'(in first few lines) '.. Good use of words... Really a nice poem