A Sacred Sin

Love is sacred and sublime owned by the angels once, But as descended to us men It lost its grace as hatred born. Man born with a greed to own, Nothing he has,than a scar on That's the death mark of Cain. The smell of the blood of his kin. Born to a world of his destiny Man seeks his own identity , With a pride he owns the world Roses he enjoys in it's shade But discard when they fade. He used and threw his every gift Virtues too once he dipped in lust A lesson he would never learn though revealed,time and again. Whims stronger beyond his reins, By default bowing to weakness when soul confronts cry like a loser But wants his pleasures closer. Virtues are for future bargains, God just a convenient reference, Man is confused in substance Never knowing his own life owned or a gift, he less conclude Or a sacred sin of the Creator.