To a Lady Prejudice

A lady named prejudice,
What an unsincere fault;
The biggest dose in family vices,
Lurk in a hideous and haunted vault.

Everyone painted wicked inside thy bosom,
As if not a single virtue remains;
I knew deep inside thy soul lonesome,
Yet thy heart conquered by vain.

poem by Instalasi Sastra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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