[Insert Whimsically Deep Title Here]

Perched atop her craggy tower
sitting regally above the blue
she imagines the whole day long
of a world untouched by what men do,
And sings her siren song

With voice she projects her power
Women of her storied kind are rare,
male companions even more so
A rich sea-green aura does she bare
like a weapon of woe

Men in their eleventh hour
hear her voice beautiful but dismayed
The Greeks thought her a lady bird
Americans dreamt her a mermaid
But to all she screams of death

No mere man can disallow her
her duly-appointed, ancient rite,
where close enough is far too near
but before the fading of the light,
you'll see her holy tear