In the shadowed depths of ancient lore,
Lies Medusa, with her serpentine hair,
A gaze that turns the bravest to stone,
A tale of beauty twisted by despair.

Once a maiden of unmatched grace,
Her visage radiant like the morning sun,
Cursed by Athena in her wrathful place,
To live in solitude, with destiny undone.

Her whispers echo in the winds of time,
A reminder of power and its cruel design,
A tragic figure lost in myth’s chime,
The silent scream of a heart confined.

Yet within her stony stare lies a plea,
For understanding, beyond the curse she bore,
Medusa, a symbol of what might be,
When fear and beauty wage their eternal war.