Altered_Soul9
Bluelighter
- Joined
- Dec 31, 2003
- Messages
- 2,146
Pain swells in my back as I firmly plant the cross into the ground.
The dry dirt crumbles under its weight,
And gives way to the wet earth below.
I lower myself and wince in pain as the sand rubs together within my wounds.
I lie down on top of the cross as the black man and the white man come.
They tie the rigid rope around my waist to support my weight.
I feel the rope dig into my skin as they take the cross to a vertical position.
And finally I’m here, upside down, arms dangling, tied to MY metal cross.
And then a silence came over me and the joyful crowd.
….
….
The silence ended in a painful clank as the first bolt was drove quickly and deeply into my palm.
Before I could utter a sound the second bolt found its finale home deep within the flesh of my hand.
I watched as blood flowed over my hands and onto the ground.
Sweet, sweet relief is just out of reach, but I can taste it.
The final bolt is put through my feet, breaking my ankles and crushing the bones in my feet.
And with a final scream of hate they step back.
A cool wind blows.
Its noticeable, but all I can feel is her presence.
The black haired woman comes for me.
A deep stare into my eyes.
A quick flash of steel.
A slit from ear to ear.
The joyful crowd showed no more enthusiasm.
They all turned their glances to the West, to the mountains.
I will miss the mountains…….
None looked at my body in its last moments of life.
They couldn’t watch this grotesque sight, even though they brought it about.
Women cried, children ran home alone,
And the men just stared off.
With no sign of life or love within them.
I died for no one.
My blood washed away nothing but the dirt off my skin.
My blood is thinner than his was.
It shall taint your soul instead of cleansing it.
You killed my life for a benefit that was not there,
A truth never to be seen,
A faith nonexistence to even God himself.
I, The Unholy Cross Bearer died for a sin not my own.
And the horrible truth to this story is….
I won’t rise and live again~~~~
The dry dirt crumbles under its weight,
And gives way to the wet earth below.
I lower myself and wince in pain as the sand rubs together within my wounds.
I lie down on top of the cross as the black man and the white man come.
They tie the rigid rope around my waist to support my weight.
I feel the rope dig into my skin as they take the cross to a vertical position.
And finally I’m here, upside down, arms dangling, tied to MY metal cross.
And then a silence came over me and the joyful crowd.
….
….
The silence ended in a painful clank as the first bolt was drove quickly and deeply into my palm.
Before I could utter a sound the second bolt found its finale home deep within the flesh of my hand.
I watched as blood flowed over my hands and onto the ground.
Sweet, sweet relief is just out of reach, but I can taste it.
The final bolt is put through my feet, breaking my ankles and crushing the bones in my feet.
And with a final scream of hate they step back.
A cool wind blows.
Its noticeable, but all I can feel is her presence.
The black haired woman comes for me.
A deep stare into my eyes.
A quick flash of steel.
A slit from ear to ear.
The joyful crowd showed no more enthusiasm.
They all turned their glances to the West, to the mountains.
I will miss the mountains…….
None looked at my body in its last moments of life.
They couldn’t watch this grotesque sight, even though they brought it about.
Women cried, children ran home alone,
And the men just stared off.
With no sign of life or love within them.
I died for no one.
My blood washed away nothing but the dirt off my skin.
My blood is thinner than his was.
It shall taint your soul instead of cleansing it.
You killed my life for a benefit that was not there,
A truth never to be seen,
A faith nonexistence to even God himself.
I, The Unholy Cross Bearer died for a sin not my own.
And the horrible truth to this story is….
I won’t rise and live again~~~~
