Greed is but a manacle
A shackle of the soul,
A simple, tiny spectacle
Like jewelry out of coal;
Just enough to incite
Jealousy bereft of thought,
Void of any respite
Lest it be divinely taught…
Envy’s what I’d wished it be;
I want, what you have got,
Love and health, prosperity,
Fills up that empty spot.
Seething, as I know, not I
Doth have that for myself,
Green is but another eye
Of one more sinful elf...
Pride tells me I'm perfect
Yet I have no benching mark,
I'll feign a type of respect
Insincere, and yet so stark.
Resent; that I am godly
And I am the only one,
Who’ll ever really be me
Every other-one I shun...
Gluttony’s a cancer
Seeping deep inside of thee,
As vacuous an answer
As the tale of bird and bee,
Confuses every sinew
Of my ever wanting will,
Finding as I imbue
Ever more, the less it fills...
Wrath is vitriolic,
Manifesting in a rage,
Hellishly historic
And unable to assuage,
Pangs of utter rancor
Like inside of a McCoy,
Held in, like an anchor
Serving only to annoy...
Sloth is but a bother,
Must I really wake; arise?
Can't I find another,
Simple way, to vitalize?
The lethargy I harbor
Saturating every bone,
Seems to be the arbor
Of another sin I own...
Lust is lorded over
Every other sin before,
Where even Casanova
Can be turned into a whore,
It doesn't seem to matter
Be it avarice or pride,
Even saints can shatter
When they let the sin inside...
©lycan
L