Morphing Sin

In memory of my morphology and syntax assignment.

How different life is in your absence,
How illogical to be without you in sciences,
Causing so much misery,
On wanderers for this narrow alley.

Oh how I cursed,
The day sin morphed,
Into a mass of numbers and guilt,
Causing sleepless nights,
Migraines worst than frostbite,
Countless money spent on repentance,
Spending that eternal-like moment,
Feeling like the lowest life form,
In one of those cult guilds.

Sin can come,
In all shapes and sizes,
Like the Forbidden Fruit ate by Adam,
Like all the misplaced stigmas,
It is here,
And me.

Look here,
What's sin and what's not,
Depends on whose ear,
Some sin will be approved,
And some will get you removed.

Is never permanent,
Morphs in a cycle of yang and yin.

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