Her look would turn a man to stone.  As proof of that,
she surrounded herself with the cold, gray faces of men.  
Whether sunrise or sunset this beast of old, would watch
and wait for new prey, called man, to stumble upon her
sight.  For that alone would turn a mortal man to stone.   
There was no beauty in this ones dark smile, only evil
and cunning.  She was patience and willing to wait till
some unsuspecting soul passed her way.  

So come with me and I will take you to her lair, through
pictures and imagination catch a glimpse her essence.   
Surrounded by remnants, of bodies that used to be called
men, she slithers and rattles and hisses in delight.  Here
to be with these broken stones of men, she calls home,
here is where she loves.    Day in and day out, with only
herself and her squirming head dress of snakes to keep
her company tomorrow comes and tomorrows goes.   
Oh, let me not forget these stone, cold face of the men
left in her path, these men of no feeling can touch, no
feeling can know.
.
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MEDUSA
the mad monster maker
J
Stone soldiers
are her treasures
Her
companions
Her slithering
head dress
and
her long gone
men
And shoots
without pity
Behold the
ladies face
ust the sound of her name would instill fear in men.