A bond of heart seems to have
Weaved a repugnant garland
Of shameful, painful sin
Hung like the dead Albatross,
Around the neck of life;
The deadened piety and purity
Of my sullen soul
Stinks in the existential frame
That never lets peace
To perch on and rest in mind
For a sound sleep of bliss
On the earthy bed of diminishing life...
Feeling fails me in all respects
On all fronts, at every step
Quivering conscience makes me feel
I am a damn sinner
Shaming the mortal frame
Of immortal soul,
Yes, I am. I may be a great sinner
But a pure soul in love
With eternal lover of my heart,
For I am a fallen angel of heaven,
So more sinned against than sinning...
