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they burn in their own pride,
in their own homes their wars confined,
sinning had been an exigency,
brewing inside an aggressive malignancy.
they wallow in their own agony,
in their own graves their corpse rots untranquilly,
killing had been a consequence,
raising pandemonium's essence.
they perish in their own greed,
In their own ménage their loyalty bleeds,
Betrayal had been a force of nature,
Building up a house full of strangers.
Feared, they were by every soul
The immoral immortals, as they are known.
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Honeypot | poems
Poetry❝ honey and milk in a golden pot ❞ collection of amatuer poems by naira arden. © honeygolds 2019
