Pyre of the Sixth Sin

It towers over me
piously looming
casting green shadows
to dim the truth,
and forcing falsehood
into the remaining light.

She stands with it,
seemingly taller than the steeple
she wields
like a sword.

Her stories snake
through the minds
of her offspring,
poisoning the thoughts
they bite.

They replace memories of
genderless
orientation lacking
friends,
with a serpent,
begging to be free,
but who strikes
all of its handlers.

No one else
could make sharp thoughts
out of jade haze.