SINNERS AND SAINTS

The songs of flattery, 

And the thundering claps,

Were a mockery of my underlying attempt at saving myself, 

As I told the voices in my head, 

That I am trying to save you. 

I have been sheltering a sinner,

Dressed as a saint, 

Made him walk beside me, 

On the winding roads,

One side stand the saints,

The other, the devil's parade. 

Incoherent voices of cries of disgrace,

For infiltration and penetration,

Of each other's dwelling place,

Leave no imprint on my mind, 

As I hold on to you stronger, 

In fear of leaving you behind. 

Greed crawls at my bones,

Rattling me from within,

But I can't let you go,

So I endlessly question,

My stained soul's selfish actions,

Am I really a saint?

You walk silently beside me, 

With probable intentions of redemption,

But you help me sustain, 

My falling and dying grace, 

My mind trapped in another interrogation,

Are you really a sinner?