The Sin Tree
A poem by Keshia Nowden
We all have our sins to bear, but it’s not easy to cut them out of your life.

I was reading about the seven deadly sins the other day.
I’m not sure why.
Maybe I’ve been devouring them all my life, spitting them out like seeds,
Planting them

Lust was the first seed, the easiest one to plant, in my loins and my head.
There’s a guy I’ve had my eye on for the last five years.
                                                                         Man the things I’d do to him…He’d
                                                                  But I’m not satisfied.
That’s when gluttony takes root in my belly.
                                                           He’s a good meal, I can’t get enough of him.
                                                                             I’m still not satisfied.
The branches of greed start to grow.
                                                                               I want him all to myself.
                                                                                     I don’t want to share.
       This man is in my thoughts all the time.
I’m getting sloppy with my life, I am sure of it.
                                                 Now the leaves of sloth are taking its place on greed’s branches.
Envy is the sunlight that keeps the tree alive.
                                                                                         Who the hell do they think they are,
                                                    and why is he responding to them and not me?
Pride makes the tree stronger.
 Pride goes before the fall….
                                                                            I’m so much better than any of them.
                                                                            They can’t hold a candle to me anyway
                                              He knows who I am.
He’ll never forget me.
I want to be satisfied.                             
Wrath is the water—I’m thirsty for him—making the tree grow with each nonsensical outburst.
                                                                     I like when he talks only to me online.
                                                                     I hate it when these whores come onto him.
                                                            Makes me want to murder them all in their sleep.
                                                                                racing in my head.
                              The tree has become too much for me to handle.
                                                                    I close my eyes.
                                             I think of the women who nearly lost themselves like I almost did.
                                                                                    They let these thoughts take root.
               They let it grow until it becomes too big to cut down.
                                                       All I did was close my eyes and cut down my tree.

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Copyright 2016 Keshia Nowden

Well this is going to be the shortest bio ever.

My name is Keshia Nowden.I’m 42 years old. I live in Justice, IL.

I’ve been writing stories since I was 13, but never had anything published. I hope these anthologies change that.

I will be featured in the upcoming anthologies Classics Reimagined (I think this title has changed) and the online anthology Human.

My flash fiction “The State of Being Alive” was given honorable mention in a recent flash fic contest.

My poem, “Fuck-Up” is currently featured as one of WildSound Festival Review’s “Best New Poetry From All Over The World.”

Here’s to endless excuses to produce more mind-numbingly boring pieces of work!