I stalk the sight of a righteous plight,
Of a pious light hypocritically bright,
Where I see rosary ashy majesty,
Fasting to craftily revel in vanity,

Gold fills with silver spills over in bronze,
Free-will for good will fulfills only pawns,
Fighting to free we devour and plea,
For to free we mean we for the fee don’t you see?

Running in circles unfurled they whirl,
Seeding with pearls of glass that they hurl,
A lie isn’t lying if I say that it’s not,
For when I write the rules who am I to get caught.

By Ethan Kunz

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