Hands together; head bowed voice flying skyward heard not by a heavenly crowd. Foolish mind; living a test asking for forgiveness but dying like the rest. Dirty hands; oversized head pilfers from the world living freely before he's dead. Golden crown; exorbitant vest governing the fools but dying like the rest. Calloused hands; head in a shell a disheveled hovel but a place to dwell. Strong arms; muscular chest working for the fools but dying like the rest. Wounded hands; gaze fixed here hangs the Man who doesn't exist. Worshiped by many, but He's not to blame. Scorned by some, But dead all the same.
Reason for writing:
dissenchantment etc.
Arogance, Selfishness, to name some more.
Birth sign: Not entered
You need to log in to edit this poem if it is yours.
View more poems by Kevin Weis (Freelance Messiah).