Latin Class Taught Me Well
The epic of Pygmalion begins with the tale of the Propoetides
No matter how beautiful or wise
They were destined to fall
Venus devised a punishment so they would be absolved
To prostitute themselves without shame
They thrived on lust and could not be tamed
The abundance of lust hardened their face
They lost the ability to feel love
And desire took its place.
Once you taste love
You are desperate for it again
Your heart aches for strangers and gin
There is a hole
For romance, acceptance and adventure
That you are keen to fill
At least they can give you that thrill
Suddenly you are an adrenaline junky
Searching for your next flight
To temporarily fill the void
That scares you at night
The rush becomes obsolete
And colors grow dimmer
Yet you continue to give away parts of yourself
In hopes you will feel better
Your friends might have told you to “play the field”
But somewhere along that journey you have forgotten how to feel
Empty and broken
Are the only words to describe
The absence of light behind your eyes
Venus is the goddess of both lust and love
To find this balance is a tricky dance
Fall too far to one side
The other might cease to exist
Ovid would warn you to choose love
No matter how much pain it caused
Because the alternative is to feel nothing at all
See this as a cautionary tale
Not to follow the plight of the Propoetides
They were at the will of the Gods
Their fate predetermined
You are at the will of your darkest self
Don’t let it win.
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