Saint or devil

Am I a saint, or just a libertine? A swarm of thoughts tears through my mind— Sometimes I soar, leave flesh behind, A body crumbling, frail, unclean. I rise an angel, pure, serene… Yet other times, alone I sin, I gamble souls and revel in. Am I a saint, or just a libertine? Am I a saint, or just a libertine? A mother’s wail, bereaved, undone, Slays me—the death of her tender son. At times I see my mother’s face, At times a body fierce, ablaze. The whole wide world surges through my breast— Between the prayerful and the gambler’s quest. I kneel in worship, hushed, devout, Convinced my path to heaven’s route… Then turn, and tear a virgin’s veil, Defile her blood, her purity assail. Am I a saint, or just a libertine? Am I a saint, or just a libertine? Devout one moment, devil the next— My bewildered heart in torment vexed. I burn alive in my question’s flame: Am I a saint… or soaked in shame? Am I a saint, or just a libertine? Am I a saint, or just a libertine?