Unforgivable Are Our Sins
Unforgivable
Night falls on day
these heathen times,
and clouds of gloom mask
even the Sun above.
Miles of water, ever lapping
frantically at our sinking shores,
yet never a pristine drop to drink
piteous is the irony.
Gasp for breath, ye who
choked this planet, intoxicated
by parochial pleasures.
In your dying breaths, beg
for a panacea that the meek soil
begged you for, so long.
And be warned,
for the sins of the father are immortal.
There shall come a day when
courts shall arise on your graves,
no hellish miasma can fog the
injustices you owe to your children,
and, before all the hell you've bequeathed,
you shall be sentenced for your sins.
Paradise is truly lost in our midst,
and in our fleeting wake, what lays
but a sodden wasteland for they
upon whom our greed has thrust
the greatest atrocity ever,
to live in inferno with no respite.
4th Place, "U" Poetry Contest
Dated: 15th November 2021
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