On a cold winter day of month six,
I knitted a sweater of lies and deceit
I looked out of my window and there outside sprinkled white frozen drops of hope, love and trust, as they landed on the ground with a silent thud.
It's warm inside-in my little house of evil
A great fire of anger roars and burns infront of me
While a candle of jealousy slowly dies out as the wax of forgiveness melts and forms a flat solid pond of death on my wooden table
The great fire too, dies out slowly, and I throw the last log of seduction to keep it burning- for a while
these are the things we've built around us; the seven sins of life
And the less sought secrets to righteousness
