16th Day: It Calls For A Poem
June 12, 2019•85 words
YOUR NAME IS MUD
God was buried alone, by his own hand,
in the dirt.
He started it.
Jesus spit in that dirt
and rubbed it over a blind someone's eyes.
In remembrance.
I wanted to cry.
I couldn't believe it.
I didn't see it coming
with my own eyes.
Someone
sucking in their breath.
Someone
always praying for death.
Someone
left their room in a mess.
They live to defy.
They live to have it all.
They live to give
the last goodbye.