Sloth
It’s midday yet he’s sleeping still
It’s time that he’d most like to kill
And being late’s his special skill
His day? It’s going pretty chill
x
He’ll say that he *is not* lazy
It’s you who work so goddamn hard
But working hard is just crazy
He’d rather live life as a bard
x
A man of words but not of deeds
Except, of course, for eats and sleeps
Instead, of others deeds he reads
His vital energies he keeps
x
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On lock and key incessantly
Now don’t you dare say he’s a snore
He’s listening quite pleasantly
Perhaps it’s *you* who is a bore
x
His lazy bones don’t like to work
He doesn’t see the point you see
It’s life that he’s trying to shirk
All that responsibility
x
So don’t tell him that he should try
He will not buy into your lie
That everyone should strive to fly
He’s happy snoozing in his sty
x
This is the fourth in a series of seven poems on the Seven Deadly Sins; if you’re interested, you can find the other six here: Pride, Lust, Wrath, Gluttony, Envy, Greed.
Originally published at https://vocal.media.
