Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Oct 6
The scent of sin
Is ripe in man,
Yet the vision isn’t there.
The scent of sin
Rains burning sand
Yet the sinner fails to care.
The scent of sin
Consumes the land
For at nothing does it halt.
The scent of sin
Is spread by hand
For they build top pillars of salt.
Karma
Written by
Karma  18/M
(18/M)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems