I’m not a saint – could you not tell?
I’m generally doing well
Avoiding judging you out loud –
While in my head – of judgement proud.
With devil walking hand in hand
I cannot help but to pretend
That what I know is better taught
Yet my own teacher chaos wrought!
He whispers, hissing in my ear:
“Come here my son, and have no fear,
I’ll show you wonders of the world
And you’ll perceive as you are told”.
Being blind, I see but through his eyes
And can be sure of only lies,
I am convinced something’s not right –
How could your love escape my sight?