Wrath of Hephaestus

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Vintage Publishing


The fire burns until nothing remains

Submitted: August 29, 2018

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Submitted: August 29, 2018

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The bridges are dripping, post kerosene downpour,

A single match lit, the flame swaying in the breeze.

Transgressions of the past, will now receive punishment,

No pleasure taken here, this isn’t done with ease.

 

Bridges burning, smokestacks rise into the night sky,

Blocking out the moonrays, a sudden lunar eclipse.

Flames consume the earth, akin to the apocalypse,

The stench of smoldering wood, permeates the air.

 

Scorched earth left behind, a scar on the landscape,

An autumn breeze scatters the ashes of the past.

No service here, emergency services won’t intervene,

A burnt out corpse, is all that will remain.

 

A bridge is falling down, but it’s not in London,

Down to the bone, is how deep the burn will go.

Connection severed, never to be sewn back together,

The wrath of Hephaestus, is what’s been summoned.

 

Judge, Jury and Executioner; this was the verdict,

The only sufficient punishment, for the crimes committed.

A bond birthed from the womb of love, now dies by fire,

Reducing everything to ashes, to remove the burden.

 


© Copyright 2018 Melancholic Wisdom. All rights reserved.

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