In the heart of abyss, a maiden bloomed so bright,

A creature named Scylla, bathed in pallid moonlight.
Her physique of young innocence, a façade so clear,
Purple tendrils masked as hair, evoking chilling fear.

Tendrils adorned with stars, an interstellar view,
Crowned atop her strange head, ethereal and askew.
Piercing pink eyes and teeth like sharpened knife,
In her peculiar existence, marooned from human life.

Childishly curious she was, of tales yet untold,
Harboring a thirst for knowledge, more precious than gold.
A hundred questions she asked, not one she'd miss,
Answer wrong, and you'd taste the darkness's abyss.

Her laughter echoed eerily, in her solitary keep,
Roving tentacles lurking, in dark corners they'd creep.
Strong she was, an ancient power she would wield,
With one swift stroke of her arm, all defiance she'd quell.

Born out of obscurity, out of time's endless sweep,
She feasted not on bounty, but morsels small and cheap.
Creating sustenance from void, a miracle perceived,
Yet her cravings lay elsewhere, by knowledge she was deceived.

The outside world remained alien, an unwelcome clime,
Feared they would destroy her; it seemed a heinous crime.
So safe within her obsidian reign, she chose to stay,
Her portals on Earth abandoned; humankind kept at bay.

Dressed in white innocence, hiding a violent core,
Her childlike demeanor masks a bloodlust raw and sore.
Torturing the unworthy out of disdain or mere fun,
Scylla lurked in her dimension, where none could run.

Reality's enigma shrouded in Lovecraftian tale,
A horrifying beauty in every intricate detail.
Stirring fear and intrigue, Scylla relishes her reign,
In her eldritch kingdom, forever she'll remain.