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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