Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jan 2020
Christ doesn't live in a gold box.
    He lives within all our miseries.
    He lives in the slums and prisons,
    grungy dive bars and crack houses.
    
    His body is stale bread from soup kitchens.
    His blood is cheap wine shared on city grates.
    He offers hope to the hopeless and guidance
    to the lost souls. He suffers inside each of us.
Acme
Written by
Acme  71/M/Charlotte, NC
(71/M/Charlotte, NC)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems