For you, who had forgotten, the greatest story of death, that is caused by hope, may you find yours more, than this.
Do you recall the tale of fate,
So twisted, vile, and hurtful it makes you irate?
A story said to be of sacrifice,
But, punishment it soon becomes, through your eyes.
It started out with good intentions,
Bring a semblance of 'hope' to a dreadful dimension,
Framed by callous faces borne,
Of a maddened monster which fear had scorned.
Our peerless hero bold he was,
To take this 'hope' in his hands creating scars unsurpassed,
Burning the fingers with fierce heat,
Passing it on to victims of conflict chopped and chafed like wheat.
Yet he was found, by rage and hate,
Strung on a rock, cursed to face pain greater than any weight,
Limbs chained to expose his aching chest,
Where he is torn at the peak of dawn until the sun's rest.
His 'hope' that he finally face death,
Yet each day the cycle, would be as sure as his breaths,
The pain unending kept his screams,
And it would all echo in his sleep filling all his aching dreams.
Each day the 'hope' would grow thin,
As wails and tears sealed him in a flood of snarling sin,
His kindness brought him to pain,
All 'hope' he'd given, yet no man could recall his name.
This is the tale of he whose 'hope',
Would die each day, yet would live though choked,
The heel of the divine crushing his life,
Yet his spirit would live, though in death it is rife.
YOU ARE READING
For You
PoetryFor you, my words they are to keep, For you, my dreams to fill your sleep, For you, my life in your hands, For you, my love I still stand. (Cover is self made)
