Slithering
Slithering like the sins of my soul,
I burn like fire,
Too ash like snow,
The wind carries,
And yet, It leaves my mortal soul.
Left with the night air,
To waist away in the cold.
To have sin saved, Still yet another sin to hold.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
