Blood may be shed and bones may be broken
but the love from him is something unspoken
he cradle us in the pits of his bosom, shielding us from the mistakes we have forged.
couped over, despair dripping from thine body like a moist rag,
begging him to cleanse thine soul of all immoral acts.
with the palm of his hand he placed it on my back,
releaving me of my wrong doings, for I know no better.
I am an infant to the acts of man's words,
decived by the lavish scenery of exotic entities.
I worship no other, then he himself.
- Authors: Tyra B WIlliams (Pseudonym)
- Visible: All lines
- Finished: March 25th, 2020 13:00
- Limit: 8 stanzas
- Invited: Public (any user can participate)
- Comment from author about the poem: A caption of the extra mile God took to save our souls. please enjoy.
- Category: Spiritual
- Views: 107
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