The Seven deadly sins

The Seven Deadly Sins, in Shakespearean/English Sonnet format: so the ABABCDCDEFEFGG rhyme scheme with ten syllables per line (for those who didn’t know). This is actually for a school project, so I just thought it would be nice to share on here… There are some pictures I drew with it, please do not judge the drawings, I just thought it worth inputting (my artwork is actually worse than my writing, if you can believe it)! . 🙂

 

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Bursting out, the fuming rage within one,
Predatorily baring claws and teeth,
Tight, taut, threads snapping after it’s been spun,
Burning, boiling, overflowing, the seethe.
Strand by strand frays away before the end.
The rush of gasps and screams in its breaking.
Beyond the point of awful rage transcend
Shivers beyond anger, quaking shaking.
Hiding bitter demons within us all
Fuelled loathing, hostility red and black,
Bloodily clawing and scratching to crawl,
That whole feeling, hardly in any lack,
The number one, am I, I hold the wrath
Before, you must have followed down this path?IMG_3275.JPG

Hunger, needing selfishness, craving all,
Not just the food but the entire total.
Excessive edacity, eats it’s full
Never satisfied, the sight is motile
Intense desiring, wealth, power, or food,
Rapacious desire for wealth, possessions.
Eyes glued to the want, begin to protrude.
The desperate clasping leaves impressions
Mine, mine, mine! Holler above another,
Greed is the root of all wickedness and evil.
I want, I want, more than every other
Look at it within, the squirming weevil

In greed we trust, the lucky number two
Do you need another? Want is the true.

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Lie back in slumber, wash troubles away,
Tempting it sounds, is that the truth or nought?
Nothingness, and emptiness, night and day.
Leaving the surface, without second thought.
Dust settling on china skin, of age,
Cobwebbed tangles of the coiling hair.
Weary, passive, lethargic, drowsy cage,
Eyes drifting, slipping out, nothing but bare.
The effort of others wasted blindly,
Wasting time, in idle blankness, are you?
Not good occupation of time, agree?
I think that your reparations are due
The one of us, with no effort or toil,
Number three here, when eyes are glazed in voil.

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The mirror hath truth, I do not deny,
As do the marks and grades of wonderment.
Oh, how high above mortal men, you do fly.
Oh, how low down are others fundament?
Look at me, have you seen such things before?
The best am I, the best I am, you think?
Look at me sing and dance and draw and roar!
How arrogance makes everything shrink.
More important! More attractive, you are.
I am me and there is no one better!
Why not reach it, life set such high a bar?
Trust me, I’m better haven’t you met her?

‘I’ is the centre of sin and pride, true?                                                                                

Number four, am I? There are quite a few!IMG_3278

Passion flaming, waving tendrils around,
Without my being, nothing can survive.
In the infatuation to be drowned
I am the reason that most are alive Satisfied? Never. The need not yet quenched.
Electricity splitting all the spines
Tightly together touch, like a fist clenched.
No gaps in between nor dividing lines
Rushed pulsing through the heart and all the veins
Flames engulfing, firing and burning up,
Swallowing, licking leaving no remains,

Slowly snapping, out of the melded cup.
I am number five, enjoy it truly,
In the end, it will be payed dually.

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Pure green solid desire, stone cold eyeing.
What is it they have? What is it I don’t?
“They have it better than I do”, sighing.
“I want it, but I’ll never have, I won’t!”
Grasping hands, demanding everything there
Ceaselessly needing, knowing no limit.
Eyes on the prize, not breaking glare or stare.
Emerald to core, evil in spirit.
Infected foolishness from the old friend.
How ugly, thin stretched skin holding demons,<ins
Demons fighting out, out from whence are penned.
How the pit of craving, wanting deepens?
Number one is a better digit, no?
Envious as always, six is here now.

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Bulky, plumped, and stuffed, bulging from the seams,
Monstrous massive monumental mammoths
Panting desperately pink, sweating streams
Not even now, reached pinnacle zenith
Belching bloating fumes, reaching grabbing more,
Piece by piece entering the chasmed mouth,
Passing items ceaselessly, fat to core
Thickened, swollen East to West, North to South
Have mercy, just another one, again.
Sweet, sour, bitter salty, enter in,
Who ate it, who took it? Much said in vain.
Howling stomachs make so much of a din.
Know me, or try to not, truth’s known, I sigh
The number seven Gluttony is I,

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