Threnody for Virginity

Threnody for virginity

Melody played in pity

A funeral dirge for they

Who had so much more

To give.

Soft melodic wailing

Compliment the flailing

Of a drowning acolyte

Who lost their will

To live.

Uplifting epideictic

So sweet we cannot take it

Buried at the feet of

An idol made

Of gold.

Gods we cannot touch

Idols don’t think much

Of their crawling devotees

Yet we love the lies

We’re told.

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