In the eyes of the saints,
I am a stranger,
All I crave is a part of their grace.
A human in flesh and blood,
A human in deeds and words,
A chaos that stirs inside,
A whip of ignorance that shuts it aside.
The oozing smell of morning breadth,
A chilly air seeping inside,
Somewhere between sinister and saints,
I became a fallen part of their grace.