The Poem About A Trial

The Poem About A Trial






A weary unlike any other,

Tiresome hands, ashamed of godmother.

A pale sacrifice, care of the devil,

A wretch she was, exists to revel.


So shall she be judged upon thy,

Spying eyes, her mouth is no dry.

The scales cannot be tipped,

Sins crawling on her back shan't be skipped.


Three they were, all glorious,

Not even the fur for the most royal

could depict your image as loyal

For you were nothing but notorious.


The judge, a three eyed demon, gazed upon her,

An innocent insect, he had concluded.

Yet hungry his servants were,

Forgiveness were to be excluded.


First came the Sorrow, an angel it was.

Tainted with tears of past, his face was no more,

His wings, dipped in the pool of onyx,

Could not protect itself from the inescapable war.


"I, too, deserve to be drowned" says angel,

Have you no remorse

for you have bled the heart

and tore the man apart?

A lunatic we all were.

An archangel we all refer,

You turned blind to us

and became an unearthly cuss.

Were you not the same

When he searched for you?

Only a vengeful spirit to some,

The man is left numb.

You too shall feel my remorse,

As I fade from the source.

My brother will seek you,

And your pain will begin anew.


Thus arrives Lust, a beast of the deep,

Hidden to some, flesh is his to reap.

His eyes torn apart, an empty vein behind,

His mind blind, a morality declined.


"A wretched beast for a wretched girl" says the beast,

Have you no loyalty

for you have dried out your heart,

shredded your scent,

corrupted your temple,

filled the soul of a man,

with your treacherous blood,

killed one passenger away,

as a glorious ballet took place at your bay,

strings of your heart beginning to fray,

'Tis was no competition

nor was there a beginning.

But you had your climax,

while chopping the man with an axe.

Frowning, tears followed her cheeks,

Yet this was not what the beast seeks.

Her flesh was the scent, though rotten,

Tapping into the soul, her heart cotton,

"Tricked him once, you shall perish,

I have no heart, thus I cannot cherish.

I am a beast, perhaps chained,

Yet even I, the man beast,

cannot have his soul drained.

Thy wings, now inky,

Serves the quill, now kinky.

This one would feast upon your sins,

but also devour the allure of your skins.

For now, you are to abandon my domain,

As my brother will become your bane.


Inky winged angel left the halls of Lust,

The trial has yet to receive just.

A golden door appeared before her,

A woman and a man inscribed.


The woman, holding a tray,

The man, holding a dagger,

What will she serve after the slay?

Will he stab or will he stagger?


Thus arrives the mighty Favonius,

Perhaps the most ordinary out of the debris,

"So arrives the banshee." frowns the man,

His color already going tan.


A wind gushes between them, going astray,

The grandfather clock acts as a prey.

Wings now closed, the man lifts the face,

This final play nothing more than a spiked mace.

"Shall you wish it, it can be granted.

I am no shield, I cannot protect,

nor you need it, my respect.

Corrupted, my brothers sought you,

Like harvesters on a farm, they acted,

All tried to harness a piece of you.

Now, the wind blows and thus,

my cover is no more.

The wind blows, yet I cannot restore it.

Just like the pages of the story,

    the story I tried to narrate

        yet corrupted by your wings

It has been ripped from its former glory.

My gates welcomed you,

because your heat is the cue.

The gates that once protected us,

now devours.

Now the harvester is you,

and you shall harness me.

My skin turns black, just like thy soul,

But fret not, one will be remembered.

Those who lose their soul are forgotten,

    thus dead.

Those who become ash, too, shall heat,

    but they are remembered, for their heat embraces."

As Favonius falls, the lady is free.

Though the jailer was never more,

more than a mirage of a thousand sun.


She wakes, all thrilled,

The thrill of a thousand rivers.

The curtain call took place,

And concluded the dreadful chase.


This one originally started as a product that is reminiscent of foggy ideas. However, I have been granted the opportunity to experience the joyful days I once remembered and had in the past, so completing the second half of the poem was a hassle. 

In short, my poem was sabotaged. And I am so happy that it was.

May 11th, 2022



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