Apollo and Mischief
There was nothing more that I hated
my hard work all diminished to dust
It was all gone
With no clear trace
But there was one definite thing
It was the work of mischief
My brother was the main suspect
The god of quickness and trouble
Always tampering with everything in his path
Destroying the composition of order
There was nothing more that aggravated me
nothing more that set me off the edge
I confronted the wrong doer
Nothing could explain the amount of rage,
that coursed through my veins
I wanted nothing more
than to see the thief be punished
by the hand of the victim to such foolishness
"APOLLO!!" said a rupturing voice
immediately I knew that it was my father that had stopped me.
I could not bear to wait
To see the punishment that he would receive
Instead it was a simple warning
It was just a phrase to get him and I to stop
At the end of it all
My brother offered me a golden lyre
It was the most beautiful, most precious instrument
Nothing could be more wonderful, more valuable
Still, to this day, I carry this lyre
And it was a symbol of forgiveness and worth
and most of all,
Love
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