Cassandra spoke, her voice like wind,
In temples high, where light grew dimmed;
The gods had touched her with their gift—
Of sight unasked, of mind adrift.
Apollo’s lips, she once had kissed,
And thus the god’s cruel curse was fixed;
To see all truths, in starkest glare,
Yet find no soul who’d heed her prayer.
She saw the fires before they burned,
The walls of Troy to ruins turned;
Her people laughed, dismissed her cries,
Blind to the truth within her eyes.
She warned of ships and war’s great cost,
Of heroes dead and cities lost.
But none would listen, none would stay—
A prophetess, pushed far away.
Her words, a lonely echo’s song,
Cursed to be right, but ever wrong;
In shadowed halls, her whispers fade,
Her warnings like the wind—betrayed.
And so she walks where silence reigns,
Through ancient dust and endless chains;
A voice unheard, her fate unspun—
The truth she bore, for no one won.
2024 ©️
The Royal Octopus 