City Of The Medusae

Snakes hiss and towers rise,
flesh and monsters in the skies.
A tiny flower, wrought of rock,
froze, in shock.
Cries, in death for pity's sake
to the hissing hair that writhes.

Skin, green and frightful.
Eyes gaze with stone,
over the maze of beggars homes.
A flower reaches for a friend,
fruitless.
A dead end.

He didn't get the breaks.
Medusa killed all hopes.
She stands in ranks, and takes.
He aches, and turns to stone.
Ingored, alone.

© Mark Sheeky. Permission is required for reproduction.