Trinity

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It’s innocence was uncontrollable, And It’s anger was rigid. It’s dreams were mistaken for lies that were vivid. It’s fears were contemplated,But soon overseen and misplaced, It’s truth now lies understated. It hides underneath the rejection, It cries with the forgotten, It revives with the remembered, But still runs from the mistaken. Remembered for its judgment, Forgotten for its just. It lives in a grave of sorrow, where it must. Symbolic, true and serene, That’s the opposite of what the haters saw. They stated that It’s lies and impurities were now and forever raw. Do you see like them? With a log in one eye, Trying to help others with their speck? As It cries, The Hand that holds itself is all I see, Peering through my globe of misery.
Written by Trinity
Submitted by Trinity

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