Cursed

Beneath the jagged stars she weeps alone,

A gaze that freezes, turns all to stone

Her hair- a tempest of scaled deceit,

Each emerald serpent writhing, lithe and fleet.

They say the sea sang her into fury,

She was bound to stare but never to touch,

Born to pluck the stars and soar through the midnight cries

The earth was all she had left to clutch.

So now she remains a whispered name,

A tale of beauty turned to bane.

Yet what of us, who daily tread,

In worlds of grey, with spirits bled,

Our curse is not a viper’s hiss

But time’s relentless, empty kiss.