Multiple Gedankensplitter

The Sinnerman, lost in thoughts,
caressed some clouds
with his worn-out claws.
The knife, stained and rusty,
cannot remind anyone of danger,
can’t even remember how it felt,
can’t recall the joy of threatening
some pale-skinned girl.

Me and God, walking hand in hand,
I’m trying to cheer him up,
telling him it is not his fault,
that everything has not got anything to do
with him – that he doesn’t play any role,
but both of us know I’m lying,
and all the world seems aware of that fact.

And I really feel sorry for the little man on my side,
his wrinkled smile – I like him and wish
I could somehow ease his pain,
so I pray for him. My little prayer to god for good.