Poetry

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swore hands... scars across the face

beaten... left for dead... but hung on a cross

As I stand there, I study the man

I study the blood the falls and tears that soak the ground

I listen as the yells in pain become louder with each strike,

I hear as the cries for forgiveness lifting higher... as he is being lifted up

I see as he drops his head, I fall as he begins to die

I look as the spear enters his body... the same as the dagger that has now struck my own

I tear... who am i? I wonder again... who am i?

Beating my head against the ground as the flow of cries rages forth...

The ground shakes as my heart flets away in fear... what am i to do? I wonder again....what am i to do?

I look up again... one last time... to see his face... and again I wonder...

who am i?

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