Medusa

I don’t want to be this person;

Jagged scales mar my once-smooth skin.

They slice the gentle hands

That try to embrace

As they did in times past.

The pain and confusion in their eyes haunt me

And I try to reach out to them,

To mend the wounds that I made,

But my scales only cut them more.

Darkness clouds my once clear vision,

Glinting onyx in the moonlight,

Cold and hard and unforgiving,

As I feel myself becoming now.

And so I must retreat,

Into the pit where none will follow

Where I am hollow,

But safe, and so are they.