In whispers faint, the shadows cast,

A tale of guilt from ages past,

A sinner's voice, a burden vast,

Within the chamber of confession.

A secret locked in quivering heart,

The weight of shame tears it apart,

Each syllable a poisoned dart,

Revealed in echoes of transgression.

Four stanzas carved from soul's desire,

In every line, repentance dire,

A structured form, to seek the higher,

To purge the sins in this progression.

The first, a plea to skies above,

For tender mercy, endless love,

To cast away the darkling dove,

That binds the penitent to obsession.

The second tells the tale of sin,

In hushed tones, from deep within,

A story weaved in webs that spin,

A twisted truth in raw concession.

The third, remorse, a river's flow,

The searing ache of guilt that grows,

A flood that drowns the sinner's woe,

A tearful cry for absolution.

The fourth and last, redemption's call,

A promise made to mend the fall,

To seek the light and face the squall,

In hope of final reformation.

With whispered words, the story ends,

A heavy heart begins to mend,

In this confession, we transcend,

To find the grace of our salvation.