Christ

In my hands I hold waft and woe.

Scribbled down runes of come what may.

A whispered spell or prophecy no one believes in anyway.

She anoints my body for burial whenever we come across one another.

Steep is the way to enlightenment, barren is the way to salvation.

I hold the cross in hand with nails, slivers and barbs in tow.

My body is broken under the scourge of your love.

I only appear to be placed in suffering and in greatest torment.

An illusion for the fools below to snivel at.

You wish me upon you I am not of your image or you of Mine.

It is a Divine mystery and hysteria that many have fallen to.

Join me in this dance and revelry, around this symbol of Humanity you call Christ.

We will shine and dine forever after, be born again into one another.

Dru