Confession and Sin
Deeply buried in the divine.
Saints and sins reign the world.
Chasity, veiled in prayer- set to the nunnery.
Dominance cleanses the filth in the souls- an ode to Priesthood.
God and monarchies rule the world.
Music, harmonizing arts, and the journey of life.
-----
Unfortunately, dystopia lingers in utopia.
Even in purity, there is infidelity.
Darkness is contagious with sickness!
Every nemesis has mischief up their sleeves.
Humans keep in their prayers and their confessions
will themselves into safety; otherwise, trapped and gone.
-----
Hell is not only a blazing fire
with a thousand wails and damnation!
Death and plague is in the air;
every breath is lethal.
Numerous deaths upon the cobblestone streets.
Riots and anarchy kindle the sins.
-----
It is not God's angst,
nor the lyre from the devil.
Adversity can live between above and below.
No one can hide from karma;
Karma has a keen eye to hunt.
No matter how much they flee, they are found.
-----
Misery can be a person, an animal, or a deity.
Those marked in its path have nowhere found peace.
They either accept the hideous curse or fight it;
the battles always end in defeat.
If Adam’s sin is to mortality,
so the challenge is to adversity.
-----
The reminders buried their sorrows deep within literacy and arts;
a mark too great to hold it within themselves.
The five wits can spread the taste of woe.
Even if they obtain good deeds, malevolence always shows.
There is no way to blame other than themselves
once they witness the destruction surrounding them.
About the Creator
Ace Melee
Hello, everyone! Creative writing is an essential asset for me since it frees my imagination from getting hit by the barrier of the skull. It hurts when it's locked in and roars when oppressed- it was destined to soar.
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed. You could also pledge your support or give them a one-off tip, letting them know you appreciate their work.
Message Me Afterwards
>That was a bad idea. I thought you knew… >Oh, the pathos! I don’t really know you as well as I should. In fact, I may not know the real you at all. That essential, sparkling you that you only reveal to a select few. Had I been paying more attention to the stories you are so fond of telling, in which you are invariably author, narrator and protagonist, I would not have been so foolish as to set you up on a blind date. After all, no friend has ever done anything of the kind for another. That’s preposterous. What is a friend, really?
By D. J. Reddall7 days ago in Fiction
Comments (2)
Thought provoking. We were just at the Amana Colonies in Iowa where I saw a coaster with the engraving, "My kid turned out just like me. Well played, karma. Well played."
This was so dark, intense and poignant! Loved your poem!