Sonnet 666

 

A line of blood is all you need to fuel

The duel with Form’s conceit. And now your feet

Betray as they will never see how you’ll

Defeat the order-bringing enemy.

 

Your blood seeps out to spark the flame, but Form

Performs the story’s storm to flood the world

From Eve’s disgrace. Though, Eve knows now to mourn

The scorned, as God and Form give out no pearls.

 

A sonnet born in white, its body bare,

Is pure pristine, but hides beneath a veil

Of Form, not dignity, since God declared,

“ Thou shalt not let your nature’s sin prevail.’

 

So rhyme your rhymes, you hopeless swine, and quell

Yourself, your sins, but that won’t help in Hell.

 

Reviews

[Layla Anne Massaro]

Scary title. I was still pleased to read this. Good job.