Scented Souls Poem by Ibn Ali

If sins had scents
How would you smell
Rancid, putrid?
Would you repel
How would your reflection greet
How would you dress
Knowing the sight lacks its complimentary sense

What if you were righteous
Would everyone inhale as you walk by them
Would you project
Would people swoon in hopes you cover their own indiscretions
Bask in your redolence

What would my fragrance be
How could I portray deceit
My niche, Perfuming the cistern
I've grown complacent, olfactive fatigue
I don't need clearer indication
The once rich air now stifled by the stench
I've let my soul ferment
Fester, I can't mask this stink
But l have hope
Though the odour's foul, manure helps flowers grow