Sain't

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by equilivebrium

by equilivebrium

Wicked, wicked, wicked.
That word accurately describes this
   fraud.
She knows, she says, she does lots
   of evil things.
Regal stance and stoic face can't
   hide her nakedness bathing in her
   sins.

Pretense wisdom flowed almost
   naturally out her mouth.
But most see her vileness seething,
   which everybody loathed.
Oh a pity! Loudness can't cloak the
   sound of her unjustifiable anguish
   and greed.
The aroma of her expensive
   perfume couldn't drown the
   stench of her disgusting deeds
   with such worldly need!

A deceitful maiden; boon to her kind!
I need not say this, it had already
   been sculpted in her mind:
No matter to what extent she
   attempts to obscure her
   foolishness,
Her tainted entirety is displayed
   seeming like an art exhibit for us
   to see—no more, no less.

For no matter what facade she puts
up, she ain't a saint.