Paint a Picture No. 34
Her eyes lifeless, cold as stone, a face formed only to show the mere moment of weakness given.
In thought another being, could never get the upper hand of what she could do, by chance of eye to eye gaze. Set forever, immovable, to never leave the forevermore resting place, lost in time coming to that, as only dust in the wind.
A once pure beauty she once was, cast aside of feeble conserve jealousy.
Formed into in high views a hag, bearing untrusting and vice slimy reptiles that was once twine of silk hair, gone in a beast of bronze scale flesh. Draw in to those dead eyes, that held joy a fable or so ago, living life as if it was a pearl found from the sea.
Gone, just as so, with wide toxic river eyes, a mouth hung in horror of what done her in.
The mere selfishness of oneself, ended the life, of a demon that was once a goddess, having her acid blood spilled, marbling the lands as her entrails hanged below. The body lost out in the forest that was her home along ago, as now never to be found.
Within reason, her head, impaled by a spear, deeply enough to roll away, to get away, anymore.
Never used as a weapon of sheer boredom, but to end lives of the monsters that threaten the world, as the mighty beings in the clouds call about, withering them, breaking them, banishing them away to harm again.
Only the burning of her blood, fleeting anything of a memory is left, of a feared monster, she, herself was about the lands. With a sliver tongue; on pause of her last words, on her ways of seeing this world; recessed forevermore at the tip, of her lips, there to never leave.
Fate cold as ever, thick as ice and dim as night; never changing its way. Leaving her, as a wasteful of a thoughtless trash, gone, fading. Becoming a long off tale that was nothing more than a ghastly memory, striking fear in just one gaze.
Forever as thus passing seasons.
Medusa/Testa di Mudusa by Michelangelo Merisi/Amerighi da Caravaggio or Caravaggio
Made in the year; 1597
Location when painted; Rome, Italy