Living by standards of his own choosing-
a wayward path of self-serving desires,
identity often faking two faces
both, seeing through selfish eyes,
Blind to devastation left in his wake
guilt could not consume what he refused to see,
for justification, as shallow as his conscience
stood only another exaggerated truth away,
Traces of righteousness
shortlived and seemingly meaningless,
though just enough to feed the fallacy
of what he conceived as honorable,
Outwardly, integrity wore disguises well,
inwardly, within that tiny glimpse of remorse
he could not ignore shame's reflection
mirroring indiscretions of a fool,
And now he finds himself alone in a world grown cold
praying God's grace will save his troubled soul.
Adding your comment:
But then comes poetry from the heart, rich with feeling and emotions that are able to spark...feelings and emotions. 
As always, I appreciate your sweet comments. 
