A False Pillar

This is not what I would call free,
Not what I would call beauty
Or the spring of thee,
But a pillar of envy,
Of hearts in tar, words of the blurry
Where crowds deem the highest the enemy
The deceiver,

Though they plea, for a deliverer,
But be now, a prison of soul,
A deceitful industry,
Soft tones of witchy be the trendy
Mockingly fleeing the heavenly.
Disruption of truth by hypocrisy,
Children taught behind curtains, of sexuality,

Teeming demons playing out fantasy,
Foreplay through imagery,
Kidnaping youth mentally
Courting harlotry
Letting fall the innocence with mastery,
Eyes that see, yet blind, embrace it mindlessly,
Long lost our modesty,

Our strength in morality
As we spill to fallacies,
Long forgetting our infancy,
Drizzlingly our hearts in mechanical luxury,
Wandering in filth with a constant gut,
A constant heart,
Of unsatisfactory,

This is not what I would call free,
Not what I would call beauty
Or the spring of thee,
But a pillar of envy.
Of hearts in tar, words of the blurry,
Where men lead with self
Forgetting, we be but a worm before the holy.