A spectacle it was,
I snarked,
a man stood
with a dagger in his heart.
He cried war,
revenge,
and love.
My knees scorched
from the heat of these pebbles.
There I knelt,
for us,
to humor God.
Why make me love
when it must die
in the palm of my hands,
bleeding blue,
drowning in red?
I cried for war,
for pain,
for love.
I must beg once,
I cannot again,
for how could I?
A creation shaped
to be a warning
to many—
God can make you
miserable
for life.
Nov 29, 2025
Nov 29, 2025 at 9:00 AM UTC
A spectacle it was,
I snarked,
a man stood
with a dagger in his heart.
He cried war,
revenge,
and love.
My knees scorched
from the heat of these pebbles.
There I knelt,
for us,
to humor God.
Why make me love
when it must die
in the palm of my hands,
bleeding blue,
drowning in red?
I cried for war,
for pain,
for love.
I must beg once,
I cannot again,
for how could I?
A creation shaped
to be a warning
to many—
God can make you
miserable
for life.
