16+ Mature Content

Poison Wine and Blinding Sins

Warning: This work has been rated 16+ for mature content.

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Holy Father I am weary

Tired of the clinking chains

Butchered chances I once had

Mistakes with no ways back

I am weary of myself 

And how I drowned my love

In poison wine and blinding sin

I no longer hear Her song

I am weary of the strings

I feel pulled by everyday

Merciful Father so far away

Will you forgive me one Last sin

Let this be my bid farewell

That will lead me to your arms

Comments & reviews · 4
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Phillauthet
Review

I love how everything in this poem fits together so perfectly. It feels like it shouldn't match so much, but it really does. It reminds me of 'We Wear the Mask' by Paul Laurence Dunbar, though the two aren't even related. It is sort of sad, but unlike other sad poems, it doesn't make the reader feel the same despair. I also like the last part a lot.

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suhani Comment

Loved your poem! It is authentic, tinged with a beautiful melancholy and full of emotion. Reading your poem, brought into my mind 'Crossing the Bar' by Alfred, Lord Tennyson. Perhaps due to the reference to Religion and plea for salvation. Truly a beautiful piece, kudos to you!

This poem is so beautiful and real. I love the dark tone and the way you've brought religion and a sort of pleading into it. It really works to bring the reader into the mindset of this person. It's... wow. The tale you've create through these words, the beautiful rhythm creating a gothic, haunting tone that perfectly encapsulates the subject you're writing about. Absolutely lovely.

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LizzyTyler
Comment

Hi, Lizzy here!

I love how this poem beautifully melds religion and freedom, with a dark streak that ties it all together. I love the broken but wholeness of the poem, along with the dark talk of suicide.

It is a beautiful poem, one that gave me chills. It was truly great.



I have lived through much, and now I think I have found what is needed for happiness. A quiet secluded life in the country, with the possibility of being useful to people to whom it is easy to do good... then rest, nature, books, music, love for one's neighbor - such is my idea of happiness.
— Leo Tolstoy