CHRIST LIKE

I'm pinned through wrists

to the wooden X

with these dirty needles.


I'm blinded by the blood

caused from my

crown of razors.


Like Christ I'm pierced

below the ribs.

By this spear

I've built from sin.

Though I'll never be

as strong as him.

So I rot behind this stone.


My temple stands no chance

against

this gasoline and flame.


A carousel with

every turn

distorts more a crippled faith.


Like Christ I'm forced

to carry shame.

So heavy on my heart

it weighs.

Though as he rose.

On the ground I stay.

Fused within the cold.