They call me Scylla, a name spat with fear,
Yet once I was fair as dawn, bright and clear.
A nymph of the waves, free as the spray,
Till gods grew jealous and cursed me one day.

Once, I danced in the moonlight’s silvered grace,
Now six heads gnash from my stony place.
Like vines, my arms stretch, cold and gray,
Yet a heart still beats beneath this bay.

Odysseus sails, sees me as mere death-But chained to this rock, I gasp for breath.

My hunger, a blight, my jaws wide and waiting, not of choice, but by fate, my life desecrating.

Six men fall, yet I feel only hollow.
Freedom’s light I cannot follow;
Forever bound to shadowed tides,
Where loneliness and fury collide.
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