First Love

The poem is based off of a painting called "First Love" by contemporary street artist ABOVE.

My First Love

It was Valentine’s Day and
I watched from the clouds
as the breeze blew over the land

I sighed
a weary sigh
and looked aside
“Are you ready?”
called Dmitri
“Yes” I lied.

It was unfair at the least
How I ended with this fate
I give love to others but for me
none. I could not negotiate.

Humans call me ‘Cupid’

Very strange as, for one:
it was us
All three:
Dmitri, Angus
and Angela, me.

Number two:
I didn’t use arrows-
that was just absurd
And I wasn’t a baby,
as Dmitri says he would have preferred.

Then the day came;
I found my true love
He was mortal, in fact.
I must have been insane.

Sage.

He was beautiful
and didn’t believe
he was seeing
‘an angel’
as he had called me.

I took him
to the clouds
to play and to run
In the soft fluffy whiteness
Just to have fun.

But the rest were unhappy and
told me sternly
‘You give love, not receive-’
‘You are all naïve!

I may be
sixteen hundred years old;
but at mind and at heart
I am a teen girl- uncontrolled!’

‘Well, you’ve chosen you’re fate!
You’ll be mortal now on;
As death is all
you can possibly await.

Say goodbye to
immortality
Hello to
fatality
and-’

‘Hello to a personality!’
I cried and willingly left the gate
from the clouds in the sky
to the dirt down below-
to be with my love;
the only love I’ve ever known.

The End

For the contest: Story of Song
Song: Viva la Vida by Coldplay

I was tied to the stake in the centre of the ring, the people roared and cheered as I awaited my death. Nothing good was left for me. My life was over.
They tossed stones and garbage at me, their fallen leader, anticipating my execution.
My life was now an empty pit of despair with no purpose, even I was hoping for a quick death. Once a mighty ruler, overshadowed by greed and the temptation of riches, it was shocking how quickly things could crumble.
One by one my soldiers lessened in the battlefield and crossed over.
And rather than a role model destroying all scum and crushing the meaning of leader, I was one of those scum on the road stealing women’s purses.
I was on the run for my life, avoiding the guard and trying to contact my family. My family. Those who I destroyed. My wife committed suicide upon my execution sentence, and my son, feeling no further need for life without a mother or father, volunteered to be sacrificed to the mountain god.
Thinking back on it, I led a pretty good life, but take my mistakes as an example. Because after this, I knew I had a life in eternal rotting.
Then, the gates opened. He stood there, fully armed, The Sword of the Hell in hand. It guaranteed the person annihilated by it a life in Hell. But it didn’t matter to me. I would have gone there anyways.
He walked mightily towards me, like the Sun god towards a prisoner. People cheered.
“The day has come,” he shouted, now in front of me, “to destroy the scoundrel wreaking havoc on our lands! Our fallen king!”
The crowd cheered louder.
“Have any last words?” he asked me in a regular tone.
“Just let me die,” I replied.
And with that, the sword plunged through my heart, and everything turned red.