Sinner

How much of my kindness is voluntary?

How much of my heart is penance for the sins I’ve commited
When I thought I didn’t have one?

For when they called me a Saint, I felt like a Fraud

And when she called me her Love, I felt like a Fool

For that title is reserved for those
Who can give themselves entirely
To another

But I haven’t felt whole
In a very long time

And what I am is not mine to give

I am retribution

I am requital

And until the day
My debt is paid

I cannot be called

A man