He like any other

Red like roses. Drips, like blood.
There lies he, crumpled in mud.
Tattered and torn, skin now in rags.
Beaten, abused, bruised, his heart too now sags.

It sags for people who don’t care.
People who’ve forgot. People who reciprocate love, slivers to him not.
Pain runs down his spine, these burdens, his alone.
There he lies on the cross, our sins does he atone.

People jeer in torment, pain encrusts his head.
Blood flows freely from his sides,
there my god lies dead.

29/08/2013, 12:45pm. penned. He, was like any other human. Despite being divine.

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