Pain

Thin and gray, the chained clouds shuffle

Windswept past a mottled drifting sun

Pervasive darkness without restrain

Enticed by sin’s sorrow and shame

The Father, Son and Holy Ghost

Phantoms meant to pacify this hoax

In worn bare threads of gospel truth

Morphing into celestial satiric spoof

Undulations of a Father’s lullaby awry

Scripted inside a sonnet’s bitter lie

Disparity perverts such boundless verse

Ironic, isn’t it,  that love is but a waxen curse.

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