Sybil Poem by Mark Sauer

I chose to ride the endless wheel
From whim and vanity;
One treasure of the gods could steal,
And chose eternity;
But I forgot to speak of youth,
Heedless in temptation;
My beauty, my unquestioned truth,
Rotted to damnation.

The gods betray as quick as men,
We are their cast-off dolls;
Their only mercy is the end
They grant us when it palls;
And I lost that, my only grace,
While mistress to a god
Ensnared by my exquisite face,
Soon crumbled like a clod.

Now mortals queue through changeless days,
Asking changeless questions;
The same dull fears, hopes, lusts and praise;
The same dull confessions.
In a jar I hang suspended
In this dank hole, Cumae;
A gnarled mantis. Please, be ended.
Apollo, let me die.