The Last Hour of the Christ

I wear the crown of hatred misunderstanding and despair upon my hair upon my back a wooden cross I bare I know not why I’m hated so all the people seemed to love me just a week ago my skin is cut from head to toe from whips of leather by men who wish to see me die I spoke the truth for all the people to understand my words of truth where words to set man free from degradation hate and hell to live in harmony for the rest of history I cured the sick and healed the blind with the touch of my own hand I’ve walked on water and walked on sand to preach and bring my truth through out the land people came from all around and would sit for hours upon the ground I once had twelve good men who followed me around now there’s only eleven one man let me down my words have been mistaken my God he has forsaken for that my life they’re taken I believe that I have failed as my hands and feet are nailed upon this wooden cross as they raise me in the air all their sins I know I must bare I want to scream not fair not fair I’m just a young man I only wanted to teach there are so many more people that I wanted to reach my age is only thirty three I pray my God that they the people will remember me written by Dennis H. Davis This poem was written from the human aspect of Jesus Christ. I wrote this poem with no effort what so ever it was as though it was being told to me. I watched my hand move across the page with a purpose a message I believe Jesus wanted this poem written.