Hera
Hera poetry stories
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missvhs
missvhs Community member
Autoplay OFF   •   a year ago
The throne upon which I sit is pure gold, but my misery is pale blue.

Hera

The throne upon which I sit is pure gold,

but my misery is pale blue.

A crown rests atop my head covered in pearls and emeralds,

but they are no substitute for you.

The chariot that carries me is led by jewel-toned peacocks,

but opulence is no cure for such loneliness.

Leaving me in this emptiness,

down the hill to your daily routine

Tempted by some mere mortals

Your lust for Earthly flesh,

pearl white skin and pomegranate cheeks,

enrages me.

I will have my revenge on your filthy bed

A wrath that no god has ever seen

My rage is ruby red

My jealousy is emerald green

I am your first sanctuary

I am your Queen.

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