Wine of love

I pour the wine of love in the glass made of mud.
Throwing mud on me and calling a drunkard, womanizer does no good to your fake existence.
You chose to throw mud and pelt stones on me.
Yet, i shall adorn your face with flowers,
I will sprinkle the holy wine on your hair.
You call me a sinner.
Because I roam in the streets of sin like a vagabond.
I drink in the glass of life.
I am drunkard and yet I don't beg for your compassion.
I enjoy the company of women of least repute,
While people like you brutalize them and castigate them in the name of religion and morality.
I ain't no saint. Yet, I shall not pretend to be one unlike you.
I shall enjoy my wine.

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