Untitled Sonnet Poem by James Faughner
Untitled Sonnet
Squatting in a putrid room
No light or love to receive
No needs or wants are coming soon
Nothing to believe
Darkness lashes at the soul
The mind; It is bereaved
Lies grow on holy arms control
Candles burnt too dim
No substance with which to make one whole
Finding no Melody in hymns
The air is bitter green and cold
Losing feeling in the limbs
Blind, Deaf, and Dumb
My sins become a Sum
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4/18/2024 6:17:38 PM # 1.0.0.1119
