My brother is a drama queen with no morals.
He cheats on his wife with everything with a pulse.
So many of my nephews are the result of my brother’s lust,
I would be surprised he is still married
If I did not know his wife as well as I do.
His wife is over possessive, and angry,
However she is righteous and fair.
Forgiven on that front.
However she is also our sister
And if I had any right to judge, I might.

My other brother has no cares.
He has had an ongoing competition
With our niece for ages,
Since the spring and the olive tree.
My nephew enjoys arsonry and war
And I wonder if he is a sadist sometimes.
He is my other niece’s side piece, essentially,
Whom is married to yet another nephew.
Our history is riddled with ******,
And I wonder if we are really all powerful gods
Or just afflicted by advantageous birth defects.

I am the most normal of us all
And I spend my time with dead people.

We need help.
Send your best therapist.
Maybe send multiple,
The first few might meet an untimely end.
Sincerely, Hades.

there is this someone
who faced the world
as if she was the daughter of ares.

she is as strong as her name.

she fights,
and falls,
and stands back up again.

through this endless cycle,
i see glimpses
of hopelessness and loss.

and i wish
that as she grows into a better warrior,
she realizes that she is not alone in this war,
for there are thousands of people
waiting and praying
for her to reach her victory.

i am ares: the god of war.
disgruntled by my own blood thirst,
in solitude due to anything but my own accord.
i fear this lonely and cold world; however,
i don't know how to have it any other way.

ares,
wake your son.
tell him the battle will go away if he keeps his eyes
open long enough.
tell him that his mind is his greatest
comrade and enemy,
and that he does not need to know
when which is which just yet; but to
trust himself enough to
live with the consequence of either.

ares,
wake your son.
tell him to find his mother within him,
and not look to you and your plights as a
reflection.
he was born from love and war,
love and war,
and more time was spent in the womb of
the prior; that wars have been
waged for the word,
and resolved by the same.

ares,
wake your son.
remind him that, while the
sun does not revolve around him,
it depends on what he determines his
sun to be.
may he have many
and learn to appreciate them equally.
i am too old to keep making stars.
the sky is full.

ares,
wake your son.
press your thumb to his forehead,
wrap your arm around his shoulder,
he needs to know that he is cared for,
though i cannot understand;
who has he met that has told him otherwise?
touch him only if he asks,
but read his eyes- he is asking.

ares,
wake your son.
the son of war has battled.
tear him from the lip of vulcan,
remind him of the mistakes of troy,
teach him what these men did not have
that he does.
if he does not,
remind him that while he is your seed,
he is the nephew of athena.
promise him he can learn-
he can.

ares,
wake your son.
the son of love is loved.
wake him to remind him he is alive-
poseidon likes to play games,
and he seems to have gotten to his mind.
he has not yet drowned,
and he never will.
****** will bring him up with winds,
it is up to him to fall or ride them.

ares,
wake your son.
he has grieved too long
over battles he has not yet fought
and may never have to.

ares,
wake your son.