it gnaws deep within my breast
a beating demon
screaming as I tear into the corner
hiding like some callow coward
afraid to face the mirror
no longer recognizing the face that stares out
this body which was once mine
feeling odd
disconnected
what once was my shield
my shelter
my salvation from the pain
the illusion I present to the world
the gruesome mask to push away the world
has become my prison
it is my curse
my rage turning into snakes
slithering through my hair
my price for protection
as flesh became more than I can sometimes bare
instead of turning men into stone
my visage only deaden interest
but this was the plan
my penance
a shroud of defense
this was what I desired
Athena was not instrumental
in this perversion of myself
I created this mask of my own volition
I had become use to my existence
the seclusion a balm to my weary soul
hiding from the terrors
turning to stone the insecurities
of my foolish heart
how I often wish it too could become
cold marble
the barren field did not scare me
for I had felt the cold isolation of betrayal
the heated fist of anger were no stranger to my bones
the nothingness I was forcing upon my soul
was a small indignity to bear in relation to what I had known
this was what I had resigned myself to
so I awaited Persus’s blade
waited for my throat to slide along the edge of want
the cut could not have abused my soul
any more than the life I had lived
before hiding in my solitary mountain
the marble of my existence littering like cold steel
yet his blade was caustic remarks
and instead of slicing the bits of me that remained human
they enthralled my mind
until I thawed
it is a painful thing
to feel
harder I think to live
with hope some days
than it is to hide in solitude
coward that I am
I want to hide
from the beauty of his cuts
for Persus does not realize how I yearn
does not understand that I am no longer what I was
perhaps I have just tired of my own company
or maybe I have healed
it is a strange thing
to be so disconnected from myself
my rage has gone
the passion to be nothing more than an island alone fled
it is a new madness that has griped me
yet I am still the Gorgon
destroyer of desire
for I am still what I made myself become
it is a frightening thing
to think perchance
that Persus might wish brave this façade
mayhap I will turn to stone this time if he fails
for I do not think I could stand the pain of alone again
a beating demon
screaming as I tear into the corner
hiding like some callow coward
afraid to face the mirror
no longer recognizing the face that stares out
this body which was once mine
feeling odd
disconnected
what once was my shield
my shelter
my salvation from the pain
the illusion I present to the world
the gruesome mask to push away the world
has become my prison
it is my curse
my rage turning into snakes
slithering through my hair
my price for protection
as flesh became more than I can sometimes bare
instead of turning men into stone
my visage only deaden interest
but this was the plan
my penance
a shroud of defense
this was what I desired
Athena was not instrumental
in this perversion of myself
I created this mask of my own volition
I had become use to my existence
the seclusion a balm to my weary soul
hiding from the terrors
turning to stone the insecurities
of my foolish heart
how I often wish it too could become
cold marble
the barren field did not scare me
for I had felt the cold isolation of betrayal
the heated fist of anger were no stranger to my bones
the nothingness I was forcing upon my soul
was a small indignity to bear in relation to what I had known
this was what I had resigned myself to
so I awaited Persus’s blade
waited for my throat to slide along the edge of want
the cut could not have abused my soul
any more than the life I had lived
before hiding in my solitary mountain
the marble of my existence littering like cold steel
yet his blade was caustic remarks
and instead of slicing the bits of me that remained human
they enthralled my mind
until I thawed
it is a painful thing
to feel
harder I think to live
with hope some days
than it is to hide in solitude
coward that I am
I want to hide
from the beauty of his cuts
for Persus does not realize how I yearn
does not understand that I am no longer what I was
perhaps I have just tired of my own company
or maybe I have healed
it is a strange thing
to be so disconnected from myself
my rage has gone
the passion to be nothing more than an island alone fled
it is a new madness that has griped me
yet I am still the Gorgon
destroyer of desire
for I am still what I made myself become
it is a frightening thing
to think perchance
that Persus might wish brave this façade
mayhap I will turn to stone this time if he fails
for I do not think I could stand the pain of alone again
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