The Gods Are Dead Inside


Aphrodite walks, hips swaying to the beat of the music, her heels clicking on the cold marble, turning heads of all except the eyes of the one she wants


Poseidon picks up trash as he walks along the dirtied beach, salt from his tears mixing with the salt of the sea 


Icarus sits in a hospital, covered in burn marks and gasping between screams as he wishes that he could go back and feel the sun on his skin one last time


Hades wonders through cemeteries, wishing to comfort the cries of the dead as he feels every one of their deaths from deep within himself


Persephone follows Hades, wishing her mother would understand that this is the man that she would wed and that young love is still love


Dionysus walks through the streets drunk and alone, knowing that he’ll never be able to quit that one bad habit that will drive him to an early end


Gaea stands on the front lines of climate protests, begging politicians to put their selfish ways behind them to save the beautiful planet she calls her daughter


Zeuz watches from above as everyone blames everything on him, wishing that he had never had to know how heavy the crown truly is


Hera wipes her smudged mascara from under her eyes, wiping away any proof that she knows of her husband’s infidelity 


Cupid sets up love after love after love, tears falling down his face as people protest against the magic that he created


Athena stands in the gun range, practicing protecting the public from those who believe that they are the judge, juror, and executioner. 


Ares wanders from battlefield to battlefield, nursing wounds and fighting back with fury, wondering where he went wrong for such senseless death to be happening


The old gods aren’t dead… They’re dead inside.


This poem is about: 
Our world


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