This poem shows my take on the people's view of Dimmesdale vs. his view of himself from the book The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne.


They claim to know my all
Saying I’m near a saint
They don’t know I’m a sinner
And from my own sins I do faint

They claim to know my hands
Say they work ever for good
But my hands would just hide
My horrid sin if they could

They claim to know my heart
And that for them it does bleed
My heart has no time for them
Every beat I do need

They claim to know my soul
Think it’s as white as can be
Right now it hides the dark
But in time they shall see

They claim to know my fate
Think I’ll ascend right to the Lord
But if I die at this moment
I don’t know where I’ll go toward