no longer a saint

I no longer have to search your eyes
or have to pluck the moral chords -
I bear the smear of sinful living
And come with the winds is the
Guilt of filthy thinking...craving
I despise the one who stares back
In the mirror
The soul has gone twelve
And one a Judas
I am no loger a saint
What you did
what you knew
All i am

By: J.ifeme

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