Vestal Sin
She was summoned to kneel before the altar’s teeth,
White-draped, draped in innocence stitched by strangers’
hands—Sanctuary air thick with incense and a thousand years of grief,
Litany of fingers tracing skin, repeating unholy commands.Sanctified by ritual,
silenced by design,
She mouthed forbidden prayers, confused by the shadowed shrine,
Promised to a God she couldn’t name,
Yet caught beneath the weight of whispered blame.Obedience
recited through trembling lips, a lock on every limb,
Faith became the shackle—submission the only hymn.
Blessed, they called her, but never asked what blessings cost,
Promised holy water, but left her innocence lost.Obedience wore her down
like a rosary worn to stone,
Bruises flowering in secret, faith gnawed to the
bone.Confessions bled through silent nights,
Candles guttered, darkness biting harder
than the rites.The cross watched with empty eyes,
Sanctity dissolved with every lie.She bled for their purity,
endured the anointed stain,
An altar of denial—unmarked by her pain.
His hands, ordained, dissolved her name in sacred grime,
Anointed filth dressed up as something divine.She waited for the thunder—waited for a sign—But all the
angels left her trembling, locked inside the line.Each bruise a stigmata
that the faithful denied,
Each sob a broken verse the clergy tried to hide.“Chosen,” they chanted, “special,
silent, gone.”A dirge for the devout, her existence withdrawn.God was watching,
or so they claim,
But prayers shatter when spoken in shame.
She watched the candles flicker, the pews grow cold,
He promised her forgiveness, but bartered what he sold.She prayed for mercy,
but mercy missed the mark—The church lit candles for children,
but only when it’s dark.Her body, a reliquary, unblessed and unclaimed,
Sanctified in absence, only guilt remains.If purity’s the relic
that they demand,
Then let her ghost wander through this haunted
land.Take your God—leave her the cost,
A vestal sin, forever lost.