Sometimes our sins
Become our best friends
We keep them around like pets
To remember
What we’ve gotten away with

My worst sins (some
Actually criminal) were
Done with good intention
When I was at the point
Of exhaustion or ex-
Asperation.  They are 
The hounds kenneled
Behind the farthest barn
But the SMALL ones, the
Small ones, the small ones
Are the mutts in the yard
Whom I like to greet
With my lolling tongue
And wagging tales.
They are the sins (I think)
That reveal my true nature
Let me give 3 examples:

Just now
You walk past my desk,
Read this over
My shoulder and say
Let sleeping dogs lie