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Sins which we are


What am I?

A fruitful comrade?

A terrible lie?

And if so, how bad?

I lie awake at night,

Lost in thought,

Troubled by fright,

My stomach in a knot,


If we are all unjustified

Destined to hell

Blossomed in pride,

With our breasts full of swell,

Swelling with sin

Sin which we nurture 

Sin which we bath in

Sin which is our future

Sin which is our past

Sin which we are

Without a glance downcast

Thinking we will travel so far

Only to stay put

And die young 

Under someone's else's foot

Still with a double tongue.


So I lie to me

You lie to you.

Sins spread feathery 

And feelings deepened blue.

We are sin

We are lies

We are thick skinned 

We are goodbyes

We are destined to hell

In which we already live

With our lies in which we dwell

Forgetting how to forgive.




And sleep tight.

Good luck 

And stay unstuck.


◄ All I have

Bow chicka wow wow ►


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kealan coady

Thu 21st Sep 2017 08:21

Interesting poem. I happen to think sin is important. Often, the worse the better. If it weren't for sins like indulgence we wouldn't have so many beautifult writings such as Bukowski and Hunter Thompson. Anyway, a well written piece. The only problem i saw is that part regarding 'destined to hell in which we already live' How can u be going somewhere u already are? Unless this was intentional? Nice piece overall though.

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