The Harpy
so foul among men.
It's wings are wide,
spreading terrible stench.
It's arms reach out
with claws on each hand.
Exiled from,
all regulars' land.
And Face so evilly twisted,
it turned back,
talking head.
No one wants the harpy.
No one loves the harpy.
The harpy is bad.

Or is she?
could she just merely be,
so terribly sad?
No love can hurt
and also burn.
No where to turn
she hides away
inside her lair
to hold onto
that sweet despair.

But is it over?
is it through?
By one strand of pure light
a single smile
of true delight.
She came to realize
the sight put upon her clouded eyes
It didn't matter,
what they thought.
For she was she
and that was that.
Her life was hers
and hers to make.
And she opened up
her darkened heart
and gave demise
to those evil
back-turned eyes,
and their backwards lies.
For the Harpy, is beautiful.