We treat women who lie with our husbands like an army of Medusa's;
we blame the wrong person out of jealousy, envy, and heartbreak

It's not their fault they fell for the same lie as us
It's not their fault they are insecure or ignorant to the truth
It's not their fault our lovers didn't say no, that they couldn't resist and respect us

It's our fault for cursing the mistress
Damning her to turn everyone who looks her in the eyes into stone
Perpetually frozen in looks of horror and disgust
For something she didn't mean to do
For giving into desire

We are all Athena's
The ones who act on envy and rage
The ones who think we know it all
When all we know is the way to barbwire a heart

In the end, we are the ones to blame
For hurting someone already heartbroken
Penetrated by the same blade that stabbed us in the back
Only they were stabbed directly in the heart, the gut and the mind
They were forced to feel undeserved guilt and humiliation
For the faults of our own lovers

Don't blame the victims
Blame the cause
Blame the liars and the cheats
They are the real Medusa's in disguise; giving more to the temptations of beauty and desire rather than to the temples of love and respect

She carried his head low to the ground
A much more quiet triumph than he would have performed
If given the chance
For she is not a hero stroking her pride
Slaying beasts left and right to feed some bloated ego
She is only a naked woman
Fighting against the hate of the world
But to their eyes she will only ever be a monster

I can't lie. I can't pretend.
I'm not ready to dive
into the fire again.
After all the heartbreak
The world has shown
I'd rather have medusa
Turn my heart to stone.

A beautiful victim
of poisonous greed,
hurt, *****, abused
but was known to be
a monstrous villain.

A day will come, young traveler,
When a noble king and his sickly queen
Seek your wisdom
And your guidance.
But you have none to give.

You are no hero, you are just a boy
With a satchel and a walking stick.
But you are beautiful and kind
So a hero you are dubbed
By a noble king and his sickly queen.

They dress you as a knight,
Drape their sigil on your back,
And the horse clops away.
You ride tall
Until you’re out of sight.

You are no hero, you are just a boy
With a horse and a sword.
But a crest blows behind you
So you become a hope
And the children learn your name.

How can you see what’s at your back
In the wilderness without a mirror?
Use your shield, young knight,
You’ll be stone before long
So draw your sword or face the dirt.

Your armor is much heavier than before
Or perhaps you are weaker
And your sword is aching and twitching
Against your side, writhing in its
New, painful sheen.

How can you sleep
Under the gods and the stars
When both have seen what you’ve done?
Both have heard the scream
And smelled the reek of iron on your breath.

No, you cannot face them
So you look down. You sell your horse
To a man on a farm.
You leave your armor
On the banks of a river.

For you are no hero, you are just a boy
With a satchel and a walking stick
And stains on your hands.
And the king and queen say you are lost
So they light a candle for you.

You are no hero, but you are no boy.
Your feet are weathered
And your eyes are warm with the sun.
You are not lost, young traveler,
You are exactly where you are.