Christ

Written by: Seth Shirey

Christ follows, whether it be by solid rain, or by simple shame.
Christ follows, through the headway of my own ending.
Christ runs, with me in the woods that I so dare try and tame.
Christ runs, through the wind and the dirt of which my face is framed
Christ Kills, the reason for my hatred of a lonely beast…
Christ kills, let us enjoy our last and delicious feast…
Christ saves, the pointed agony of at which I dismay…
Christ saves, the color of white, by turning it gray…
Christ gives, the beauty of light and the ugly of man…
Christ takes, the reason for living, sunken in sand…
Christ makes, the simple recipe of destruction…
Christ erase, the perfection…
	The only way to overrate satisfaction…