“The Saint” and “The Sinner”

The Saint

Here she comes

Gullible and naive.

Young like a rose bud

Wandering like a honey bee.

She comes to me

Running and laughing

For chocolates and sweets

For new stories I promised her.

Today I teach her

the lessons of Body.

“Come my precious

Oh! lets hurry.”

I give her pleasure

And yet she cries

“Shh! My honey

Don’t tell this to mummy.”

She backs away

Step by step on her little feet.

I am not worried

Of what she may bleat.

The world knows

I am a Saint.

The Sinner

Look at the saint they are celebrating

With his heavenly smile.

They say he speaks gold

And thinks like an angel.

He is a modern man

With modern ideas.

He made lives with his gestures

He changed lives with his gestures.

He is my terrible past

Lurking in shadowy corners of my mind.

He dwells there, wandering

Waiting for his time

To pounce on my thoughts

Like he did, on my body years ago.

Look at the happy faces

That surround him

Of friends and family

Of people close to my heart.

They smile and adore him

And it stifles my voice.

My voice gets lost

In the celebration.

I sit in a corner and cry

I am the sinner.

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