The sky is blighted by the sun,
and the night has ended all too soon.
Woe's rays smother the flailing moths,
over the people who sit with golden spoon.
The purple skies hail the raging sloths,
who kill and harm to claim their boon.
They stumble in the state of being drunk,
realizing not that their faith has sunk.
And behind the curtain of grapes,
there arises the guardian of these lakes.
And whilst they all succumb to these maladies,
the believing soldier glimpses their fallacies.
For underneath this line of dawn,
the devils lie, praising their pawns.
For underneath this line of dawn,
the wrong of justice they do mourn.
But now the sins have been committed,
and now their guilt will not be acquitted.
For now the sins have been committed,
and now their time is all but limited.
YOU ARE READING
Poesy of Eloquence
Poetry❝ this tragedy is soaked with tears that dry the ink in my hands. ❞ ━ the poesy I've yearned to release ever since I taught myself to pick up the pen and write. ❝ for if the painting of my words be the garden upon the gate of heaven, glimpse them...
