No, not I, not me,
I am perfect can’t you see,
Whatever made you think I could?
Or even that I would,
Was it all along your goal?
To paint me less than whole,
It makes me wonder, with such thought,
You haven’t sinful thinking caught,
It’s not unusual to paint some phantom,
And leave the innards wanton,
Bare bones without much filling,
I find this rather chilling,
You as I, have many parts, to make a whole,
Not just bones, but, flesh and soul,
An integrated whole, with good and bad,
There is no other to be had,
And if all my sins would leave me,
All that’s good, would also flee,
Unless you think, your sins are faint,
Compared to mine, then you’re a Saint!