Farewell my son,
I wish nothing of myself, but only the creation of another.
To whom does the world belong, myself?
A king?
A spectacle under thick glass of fate.
Oh, why, God of War, must you
Have done this unto me.
Shackling chains entombed around my cage,
And endless dead, to which I have slain
A corrupt thing it is, they say, injustice
For all the hatred, and darkness I done unto them,
Pass unto me.
They welcome me in Tartarus, as their brother in hell.
My very own flesh and blood, like demon lust
Greedily yearning for a fool's power.
A flower which I have blossomed, has turned dark
And erred with distortion.
He, my foolish creation, has betrayed me.
His own father, to take the crown and siege my kingdom?
Ah, within my power, I lay blind. For my destruction was
A coming of old, of my own Kronos, as I have done the same.
Life would seek to dictate the same be done to me,
I seek not to devour my children, for I have lived and rebelled.
Why, oh Ares, do you seek to continue
Such a relentless cycle?
YOU ARE READING
A Father's Fallen
PoetryThis is one of my proudest works. Mythology has always been one of my greatest fields of interest. The stories, lore, and untold tales have such an alluring nature, one that cannot be displaced by the simplicity of novels or fictions (even though my...
