Sins

There are sins

That taste so delicious

They become virtues

There are vices

That are never left to their own

But are still quite

Delicious

Odd, how we colour emotions

With shades of judgment

Isn’t it?

Verdict, please

Guilty pleasures

Are almost requisite

To be pleasures at all

Ah

 

 

David Trudel         © 2013

 

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