Sycamore reminds me of the word tall,
musing on music could build a wall.
Heaven reminds me of mankind and fall,
sins will never be auctioned in a mall.
Jesus is another way to justify your sin
especially when truth almost lived in the scene.
Pride and ignorance struggle less to win,
the sweat on the forehead is no stranger to your chin.
I tied my burden on an alphabet called t,
and anxiety never left even when I took tea.
The letter buried its tail when my tears made a sea,
read this poem again, what is it that you see?
I see confusion at the house of indecision.
I see the choice to say everything,but a choice that says nothing.
I see the mention of sycamore, Jesus and the alphabet.
I see a disconnect;maybe a plugin dysfunctional.
So with sycamore, music, heaven and mall,
And Jesus’s truth and ignorance and sin,
I’ll have to read again and in between
To see what underlies so cryptically,
The struggle of these alphabets
To reign supreme.
Sin will always be sin.
Bursting at the scenes
Pride knows your chin.
This is a lie
Spread their wings and fly.
But first, What got us here?