DEAR LORD

Don’t make me righteous person

In dark eyes of people

Neither because I’m prestigious

Nor for my dirty earnings

Let no one leave a seat for me

Much less a front seat

Your church fast for me

Not with mask on

Don’t make me Mr. Perfect

The saint I can never be

Be my guardian angel

My only companion

Get rid of my mask

Walks me head down

Conceals my goodness

Reminds me of the death

Grants my heart’s desire

Remarks all my wishes

Not because I deserve

Do these out of mercy

Let me do great good

Removes my tongue thereafter

Makes me a good person

Place my death into living