It was pride
that plowed the path,
and it was long
before the math.
I saw them as gods
before I knew the truth,
walking amongst us
imperial and aloof.
Some twisted our world
to their malicious design.
Others catered to their elders
like servants bearing wine.
It was intended that I join them,
but the angels turned me down,
leaving nothing but the demons
to carve my cursed crown.
So, I watched their marches,
observed their sermons,
and I watched their schemes unfold
like conquering Germans.
In the end however,
their caresses were corrupt,
and when our matron passed away,
Olympus did erupt.
By the time we entombed father,
our pantheon was no more.
We were many broken sculptures
decorating museum floors.
But before I did the math–
before they removed their masks,
they were mighty gods I worshipped
who’d do anything you’d ask.
I had to step aside though.
I was a lost lonely god
who was really just a man
pretending he wasn’t flawed.