SANCTIMONIOUS ANGELS

SANCTIMONIOUS ANGELS 


Heads up,chin high

They potter around,

With their heads lying in the cloud,

Chasing rainbows.


Toiling their hands in clay,

In a bid to mend a broken pot,

Never had they seen a potter's house.

How quickly they forget, they were made of earth too.


Even when sprinting on track,

Yet act as umpires

Hooks and lines, ready to fish the wrong,

But trip in a blink of an eye,

When given the baton.


Their eyes wide open to ignorance,

But blind at the sight of wisdom.

Their backs turned against knowledge,

They quench every flame that lits up their understanding.


Prisoners aiming to free the FREE.

Angels at dawn,

Demons at dusk.