Wanderer’s Confession

I ain’t no angel, that’s for sure,

Just a wanderer in a world impure.

My wings are clipped, my halo’s askew,

I walk ‘midst shadows and light askance, too.

I’ve danced with devils, kissed the moon,

Sang with the night’s most lonesome tune.

I’ve cast my lot with stars that fell,

And walked through heavens that looked like hell.

With feet of clay, I’ve climbed so high,

Chased lofty dreams across the sky.

But angels pure, with robes so white,

I’ve never been one – I’m dusk, not quite night.

I’ve told my share of lies, spun tales,

Walked through storms and biting gales.

My hands are soiled from life’s tough fight,

I’m stained and tarnished, far from light.

But in my chest beats a heart that’s true,

Though I ain’t no angel, I’ve virtues too.

I’ve loved as deeply as any saint,

Bore scars and stories without complaint.

I ain’t no courier of the divine,

No seraph’s grace or godly sign.

But I’ve lifted souls when times were tough,

Gave my all when love was enough.

So judge me not for my flawed design,

For I am more than a celestial line.

In this mosaic world, we’re pieces small,

I ain’t no angel, but I stand tall.