The Lost Soul

A wiff
Of cheap scent
On bedclothes
For him to sniff
When she goes.

How easy it is to repent
Of the money spent
But, he knows
That when the wine flows
The weak
Will seek
For a she of a certain profession.

Had he belief
He would make his confession
To the priest who knows
Where the lost soul goes
To find a temporary relief
On the Siren’s reef.

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4 thoughts on “The Lost Soul

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