Grey-rocking

They call me Medusa,

a monster forgotten; and here? No katharevusa.

The fickle-eyed ancient damned my life in a proxy fight;

jealous? Of what, the rape of an innocent acolyte?

The lust of a capricious potency,

and you claim it was my bosomy?

How can I be the master of my fate,

if all men desire to penetrate;

to mutiny the captain of this soul?

Forget the Gods, I return control.

 

 

This poem is about: 
Me
My family
My community
My country
Our world

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