Saints who Sinned

You stand there all jaded yet glistening youth shimmers of you.
And i stand gasping for air.
Such tales of saints who sinned have been mere myths.
My scares give me strength thru rage, yours gives you immortality.
In my moment of glory, i am humbled by you admiring my apparent greatness.
Now i know, God is not up there where mortals plant dreams, he is among us.

In every prayer born out of misery.
Deep within the very vein of those who can never cry.
Reach out you say, and lay down you shield of arrogance.
I am not afraid you whisper, for what you perceive as greatness,
Sits in my palm humbled by the generations of saints who sinned.

Sham to my friends.

Son to my Mother.

Shahrman to God.