The Sickness Poem by Joseph Skytta

Inside the sickness is rising again,
Nothing is tempered becoming pretend,
Sadly your chaos I recommend,
Lamenting and grieving abandonment,
Bracing apportion awarded and crowned,
Bestowed degradation called but not found,
Detested confession falling on down,
Reality the lie that repeats like the sound,
Of ages archaic and forgotten since time,
Starting all over the trivial crime,
Yearning to abstain a sickness in lines,
Plagued by the pardon of fatherless time,
Wrinkled and pruned in orchard divine,
Grabbing the cables and holding the vines,
Detracted the statements and still you decline,
The marvelous taste of this wonderful wine.