The Bane of Hephaestus

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    • The Bane of Hephaestus

      Even here, amidst the flames that lick my flesh
      I long for wispy, calming fingers to soothe
      And excite, even as Zeus' bolt, my bones
      But, alas, the sad sensation has yet to come

      Like the Naiads and Dryads who sing
      All around my weathered cavern
      Flees and retreats from my visage
      So back to shadow I crawl

      With my hands have I bonded
      Grown calloused and rough
      For whom I thought was my life
      Seeks another man's love

      With my arms bathed in magma
      I search for some beauty
      As my spirit slowly smothers
      Into cold and polished stone