Sin

Innocent, was born of my mother
When a single word could not I utter

As grew I a little older
became defiant, and a little bolder

Then I learned how to speak profane
A worthy speech, not but vain

Soon, I learned the art of lying
Enchanted, was I so enjoying

Unaware whom, I was letting sins to make me
Down and down and down to take me

My heart had hardened like stone
My conscience dead like Al Capone

Alas! I've earned the fire
But it'll cleanse the guilt of lust and desire

My hope is then I'd be set to go
But sins abound, really I do not know
Copyright © | Year Posted 2019

Poem

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Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace