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Since my religion is poetry,
I own a more delicate sense of morality than you.
I see you with a puzzled frown
Attempting to figure out what it is you should not want to do.
Since my religion is poetry,
My thoughts are by turns beautiful and plain,
Depending on the world that shines
Or the misery of its rain.
I am content.
You do not inquire
On the nature of your injuries. You merely feel them.
My thoughts are a choir.
Since my religion is poetry,
My sense of superiority is a sin.
I am curious as to why I love you so much,
When your sad, mechanical mind
Never lets me in.
