The Fray
The light is different here
So far away and dim
I reach . . .
It moves me forward
But never closer
The chill of space
Spews ever before me
I am Scelestus
A son of Cain
Born of vengeance
I am insane
The light is different here
The smell is toxic here
It burns my throat
I fall . . .
It makes me weak
I deserve it you say
Sulfur clogs the nose
And fills my veins
I am Scelestus
A son of Barabbas
Born to betray
I am insane
The smell is toxic here
The pain is different here
It tears my soul
I weep . . .
His scars shred my flesh
His blood screams
My neck strains
I hang here still
I am Scelestus
A son of Lucifer
I am insane
The pain is different here
Death is different here
It lingers on
I moan . . .
It keeps me alive
If only I could touch the light
Quench my thirst
Or die
The rope frays
I am Scelestus
Take the silver
From my bones
Death is different here
3 comments:
Zerilius aka. Clara says : This poem could be a great tool to evangelize for those that need a good look into their unsaved future. You have really touched on the unending suffering with a hint of the justice of that suffering and the point that death is not -- 'the end'. Makes me want to be bolder about witnessing.Thanks!
1:47 PM
You're awesome Clara. Thanks.
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