His shoes tap against the cold city streets. The face on his wrist says 1 a.m. Runnning, his steps create a hurried beat. Drops his briefcase, but stays on his feet. Looks behins him, nothing's there. Stops to look about him. It's out there, but where? Sits down to catch his breath, his last moment free. A light burns behind him, bright as a sun beam. The Virgin Mary engulfed in flame, bearing a look of scorn. Deep inside he hears the fetus scream. A Holy Savior never born. He starts to run again, A holy pact never sworn. TERRAAL
Reason for writing:
The tormention of St. John.
Birth sign: Taurus
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