Introduction: Everyone is guilty of one “sin” or another, and as I was scrolling through my potential purges from my life, the following poem came to life.


If I say,
“I seek shelter from the coming storm.”
Will you let me in?

If I ask,
“May I enter and find warmth inside?”
Will you welcome me to your hearth?

If I request,
“Let me in, so I may rest my head.”
Will you direct me to your couch?

Consider your shelter and

the stranger at your door
for your guest-to-be may just be

Death in disguise as Pride
seeking shelter
in your being

Death cloaked as Lust
desiring to feast
on your heart

Death shaped as Sloth
dreaming to lead
you to decay

© Elle Short Stack Story Time 2015

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