The cheers waned, silence fell like a heavy shroud, as the prince unveiled the monster’s helm aloud With fading light, shadows crept in deep, within those dying copper eyes, truth was revealed
A pretender lay where the titan should have bled, the city’s hopes stifled – 
as the phony grinned, the city froze cold
The warriors once so proud and tall, stood frozen as the horror unfolded
Murmurs spread — the man wasn’t the villain foretold.  
Patroclus had fallen.

Wilted flowers of triumph withered away, heroic shadows lost their way in the twilight’s sway 
Death crept silently through the thick, dark veil, where once bright banners had swayed without fail
The rugged sham was borne by his tearful mates, to Menelaus’s camp, burdened by such tragic fates 
In a landscape warped by endless strife, where all sorrows were inhaled as men fought for their lives, 
The Best of Greeks, sank to his knees in despair, a heart-rending scream ripped through the air
The mortal died and a god was born from pain, he cradled his love colored in grief’s stain.
A thousand unsung verses dried up in despair, the son of Pythia mourned to the empty air
He cursed the gods and himself too, for he had known no heart so brave and true
To end the bloodshed, to cease the strife, the poet had donned his doomed attire
Achilles languished in deep despair, the loss of Patroclus he couldn’t bear
Patroclus, sweet and bold, his heart’s beloved, with dark curls and copper eyes, lips that sang to his lyre’s cry
Now lay frozen in his trembling hands, cold and dead.

His screams reached the heavens, the gods felt the dread, a god had been born with fury fiercely fed
Warriors of Troy and men far and wide, knew they’d unleashed hell, with nowhere to hide. 
As he roared, hands soaked in crimson flood, his last humanity drowned in his beloved’s blood. 
The hero died and a god arose from the wrath’s fierce blaze,
Golden eyes now lifeless, lost in a raging haze. 
The city quivered under his thunderous roar,
As the calm shattered, death’s lore echoed once more. 
The madness they cheered now echoed clear, they had killed the poet and unshackled the monster they feared.
Patroclus had been the grace Achilles beheld, the only tether to humanity he had ever held. 
The city quivered as Pyrisous rose aflame, his mortality – his beloved’s last claim. 

Eyes red as blood on snow burning with wrathful fire, 
He hoarsely said, “Lay us side by side tonight in a tomb if I return whole, 
But if I turn to ashes, mix them with his own and unite us soul to soul
For in life and in death our fates are intertwined, I am his and he forever shall be mine.”
Before the fallen god the men did kneel, his broken heart now made of steel
He grasped his sword and mounted his steed, on Xanthos he rode into the night at terrifying speed
Prince Hector stood frozen as his fate drew near, death approached with no sign of fear. 
The city trembled beneath the sky so clear, destruction loomed close – a shadow of despair.
As the god strode on to the battlefield, the army rushed forward knowing their fates sealed. 
The massacre that followed is too brutal to retell, apathy ruled the heart where love once had dwelled. 
Poets claim hate is love’s greatest foe, but it’s apathy that strikes the final blow. 

Beneath the moon Hector fell by his hands, Troy wept in silence their hero lost to war’s demands
The blood stained the earth so red, the god’s cruel vengeance on the city spread
Towers crumbled as the heavens cried, witnessed by all Troy’s glory died 
The echoes of battle in silence fade, a god’s wrath on mortal hearts was laid
But what is god before the will of men, when fate’s cruel hand makes them rise again? 
Prince Paris mourned Hector’s fall, his brother’s death echoed through Troy’s high wall
He docked an arrow on his sturdy bow, aimed at the deity who caused such woe. 
Gods feared Achilles and his fury untamed, stoked Paris with courage inflamed 
Apollo guided his arrow’s swift flight, piercing the heel in the dead of night. 
The mad deity fell, his strength undone, for even gods feared what man had begun.
The war halted, silence draped the land,
Men stood in stupor, no longer a sound. 
Odysseus – The ruler of Ithaca, a man brave and true, knelt by the fallen god such a solemn view. 
“With the slain poet, let him rest in peace”
He ordered with sorrow that would never cease. 
“Enough he has done, let him now find rest,
Among the honored dead, where heroes are blessed.”

In the shadow of gods where warriors tread, Achilles lies with Patroclus, both now dead.
In battle’s fury, their names etched in stone, a legacy of love so fierce and strong.
In the halls of Hades they now reside, Achilles with Patroclus by his side.