7 Deadly Sins

By Anweshika Mehta

In a court chamber shrouded in an air of mystery and solemnity,

Stands figures clad in long hooded cloaks,

Series of seven masks, series of seven sins,

There seated upon the ornate thrones,

Each embodying the essence of their cadence.

First is pride, lies where ego reigns,

It ascends the throne, with a monarch's dream,

Cloaked in the robes of arrogance, it finds peace,

In the mirror's gaze, it sees its worth,

Blind to humility, gentle birth.

Oh, wrath, a tempest's fierce embrace,

In wrath's grips, hearts turn to battlefields,

Fueled by revenge where forgiveness drowns,

Words like fiery arrows pierce the heart,

Leaving scars where kindness once resided.

Then in the shadow's grasp where envy creeps,

It pressed teeth, green-eyed and cunning smile,

Resentment blooms in this poisoned soil,

Where comparison begins to recoil,

As envy whispers, “they have, but you?”

Next is Greed, dismantles compassion's gleam,

Plants the seeds of insatiable desire,

In its grasp ethics wane and fade,

A hunger gnaws an endless thirst,

For wealth and power, possession comes first.

For lust reduces souls to mere flesh and bone,

Love and intimacy distorted in lust's embrace,

A shallow connection failed,

To honor dignity and cherish autonomy,

In love's embrace, a scared symphony.

Sloth emerges with its lethargic chills,

Breaking free from sloth's blinding bane,

A call to action, a spark ignites,

Personal progress halted, dreams deferred,

In the shadows of laziness, ambitions blurred.

Lastly, gluttony's clutches, a soul immersed,

A bloated spirit, a heavy toll,

As the feast concludes, an emptiness of soul,

But beneath the surface of this lavish display,

Lies a hunger insatiable, a price to pay.

For what is gained in abundance and excess is often lost,

In emptiness, in distress.

By Anweshika Mehta