Sin

Sin, the echo of our darker side,
A twist in the human soul, we can't hide,
It's not just transgressions marked in ink,
But the inner battles that make us shrink.

A breach of the compass of right and wrong,
A discord in the symphony, a dissonant song,
A whispered temptation, a secret desire,
In the tangled web of choices, it conspires.

It's the weight that burdens a troubled mind,
The tangled vines of guilt, we often find,
A fracture in the mirror of our own reflection,
A flawed, complex human imperfection.

Sin's a storm within, where conscience wrestles,
A dance with shadows, where judgment tussles,
It's the choices we make when no one sees,
The heart's clandestine, complex unease.

It's the sting of regret, the pain of remorse,
The haunting memories, an endless course,
A glimpse into the depths of human frailty,
The eternal struggle, our moral reality.

Yet in understanding sin, we may find grace,
A chance to grow, to change, to embrace,
The imperfections that make us human, true,
To learn, to heal, and to renew.