Apollo’s Hubris
- Magickmaster 8
- Sep 15, 2023
- 1 min read
The light flashes catching their eye
They didn’t think that they would see the goat die
How could they know that their lord would slaughter him
The mood on that mountain was rather grim
The price to pay for arrogance
To death the final currency of penance
The goat man they called Marsyas
Succumbing fully to Narcissus
The judges astounded
The spectators absconded
Poor goat his flesh all red
Not quite dead
One day his story will be told
But not now no one is ever that bold
And who were they to question their lord?
The singing one who controlled the record
A knife he took from his belt
And slid it easily into the satyrs pelt
The anguish he felt could not compare
To the humiliation he had suffered there
His skin flapping in the breeze
It parted from his meat with such ease
Did he still live? We’ll never know
Ones things for sure, he will never grow
On that mountain on that day
Was it arrogance that demanded such pay
Surely not because after all
The goat man wasn’t the one who called
No, it was the crowds he amassed
That where at fault for his blood dispersed
After all the gods are never at fault
Truly just they can’t be bought.
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