Seven Vices - Pride Poem by Hell 'Farya

In a town filled with the broken
There was a word left utterly unspoken
A hand that receives with no thanks
A chest that strout about the water banks

In that town was a house with a room
Fragranceful as a walk in the tomb
In his heart, he spat at every of them
Forgetting this flesh never stays fresh

He counted coins that weren't his due
Said 'thank you' not, nor 'how are you'
His mirror loved him, his neighbor feared
He called that power, but it disappeared

One night his breath turned cold as stone
He reached for help and found alone
His tower of pride, so tall and steep
Was just a grave he'd dug to keep

But down the road, on broken knees
A different sound moved through the trees
Not a shout, not a boast, not a furious word
Just one small voice the town had heard:

'I am nothing. But nothing can kneel.
And kneeling taught me what is real.'

That voice was humility.
It had no room, no key, no fee.
It slept on floors, it mended nets,
It bore your insult without threats.

And when the proud man's candle died,
The humble one stayed by his side
And whispered this before the grave:
'What pride could not take, love will save.'

So let your chest not strut the banks.
Give thanks in silence. Break no ranks.
For pride leaves ashes, cold and dumb
But the humble rise when the proud have come undone.