If I Had Headed the Gods Omens


You were born with spear in hand,
A name like a battle cry,
A pointed smile upon your face.

But boy you were made with,
A voice of honey,
Fingers that danced across the harp,
And feet that flashed upon the sand.

My son, you were born for war
but by the gods, you weren't made for it.

You were made,
to dance,
to sing,
to love.
And how I wish you could have.

I will forever echo my great regret.
I will sing to the muses for all eternity.
I did not beware the gift of the gods,
and so I lost my only son.

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