Sing in me Muse, and through me tell the story
of the girl with the wild lion’s mane, with a brush the ventured,
with ferocious nightmares of its gruesome destiny to untangle.
As its fate to be ravishing behind behind bars.
She yet continues to suffer from this gift of her parents.
What not a sole can seem to grasp is how these curls,
shall never tame.
But yet, tell me Muse, why even the strongest of knites,
and the most devouring of dragons all shutter
and run at the sound of her name.
All tactics have been tried,
every invocation sent to their lords.
Yet the mane still rome's, hubris about the land
That no one wishes to call home.