The Messiah

they are confused i feel their it pouring out of their words as they spit cruel taunts at me hoping to get another reason to strike me father they do not know which the madness they bring forth they pull me high i feel a sharp pain in my hands they grow cold and limp their smothered in red ink pouring from itself they place jagged pieces of something on my head and i feel a warm liquid dripping down my face i feel my life draining i look down at my death dealers and forgive them as i pass on to see my father
Copyright © | Year Posted 2013

Poem

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Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace