Sin In Sight Poem by Kathryn Garner

the illusion i see
and what i happen to be
contradict, or thats what they tell me

call me a rose, ever so sweet
and ill concoct a reason to weep
weep for the things i cant be
weep for the room i need to breath
out of this horrid skin
with its introduction
such a horrid sin
for a sight to be

for a rose will wilt with time
till its features of the soul are outlined
and nothings what it used to be
time kills beauty

time, that hasnt wasted to the quick
to death
and yet as i look toward the rest
i see only decay and waste
wilted petals for a face

a corpse of never fully beautiful
and a life hindered, till never useful
from the dragging throns ripping at my skin
and my sight as such a pained, strained sin

but as a corpse, so thin, so slim
with the decay from my sin
till all is as it was ment to be
and it wont matter what i see