Waves of blossoming foam

Clashing against a stone tower,

A sighing song; an escaped moan,

Her voice whispering with power

Her tangled hair flying with the wind,

She looks down to the spraying, turning sea,

Her green eyes glimpse a sparkle from a flipping fin

Her heart catches in its twisting lock without a key.

I am what I am now she thinks,

Glancing at her golden locks

As, in their place, writhing snakes interlink

And the shrilling cry of a seagull mocks

The snakes grow longer, curling to hug the wall

Slowly her Medusa's hair reaches down to the sea below

And to this, the girl's reaction, is resigned appall

This is what the girl now knows, only woe.

This is why she sobs sadly in crying gasps,

Her song not of anguished tales, but of sweet, sad remorse,

But as she stares at the gray, rolling mass

Emerald eyes grow hard with blazing power and force.

She knows of something you don't,

Sweet sisters dear,

And something of only fear,

But this time, she won't.