Miscreant Sinner Poem by Ashleigh Wiggins

The snuffing of candles, quietus of flame.
Imperceptible smoke, forgotten by fume.
Desolate, discouraged discompose.
Aided along by ardent embrace,
Against the berm of the River Styx.

The casket was closed,
A past recollection.
One preacher,
Absence of rose, lilac, or life.

Mellifluous callings, silenced and still.
There will be no serendipity to serenade the gods.
Epiphanies eroded, ephemeral life.

For every courtesy lies an equally abhorred display.
A soul cast away from ebullience.

Perhaps had you shown a magnitude of magnanimity,
Your fate would be cast with feeble felicity.

Damnation, a forgotten salvation,
Here you will ignite, among plague and starvation.

Miscreant sinner, offender of all.
A brush of death, pity amidst wrath.
Eternally restricted, not one bereaved.
Here lies the end, a concluding cause.
The final page, to a life, of envy and rage.