Dearest Medusa,
I do not blame you so,
For what happened
Was not your fault.
Poseidon came and disrupted you,
Defiled you,
Destroyed you,
And expected me to punish you.
My hands were tied
Loyal one.
I couldn't go after
The one person
Whom was truly at fault.
What I did to you
Was not a curse, child.
It was a blessing.
Men would see it as a curse,
But that was the whole idea.
I gave you power
Every woman wishes to have.
The power to protect herself.
You could turn a single man
To complete stone with a single glance.
How is that not me trying,
Trying and struggling to protect you.
The men think it a curse,
For a woman to have her beauty
Stripped away.
In reality, it's a blessing we all wish
We could have,
So we would no longer be afraid.
(Why do you think I act like a warrior?)
orion
ESTÁS LEYENDO
Ichor
PoesíaA story twisted Left and right, Through countless mouths And endless minds. A game of chinese whispers, Each recount slightly different Compared to the rest. A tale of power And a tale of weakness. Faults ignored And dangers conceeded. What is it? ...
