Receding hair,
Ragged skin,
You're blue to the core,
But still gray.

The scars on Your cheek,
They still bleed,
Old boots on new fields,
Now feel freed.

The ink on Your skin,
Is a mark of Your sin,
But You did nothing wrong,
That is just unforgivable.

Expiation for Your sins,
Like thousand sharp metal pins,
Carving into my flesh,
You're one chaotic large mess.

People with You were not fair,
You were the one who was not there,
But still You are there somewhere,
The beginning and end of all men.