I am like a ghost

I am like a ghost gliding unperceived,

I am like a pariah wondering unreceived.

How can they receive what they can't perceive?

Every good work done goes unseen.

When I burst in anger it morphs into a sin.

But why, why can they not appreciate, appreciate all these efforts?

The god within me retreats back home.

Bruised and hurt by the foolish

He can only forgive, forgive them they can't perceive.

So they will never receive what I give.