Thirty pieces, blood releases
Body broken into pieces
For the dead, for the left,
For the ones involved in theft
Of robbing joy, robbing light
Compacted, crusty ruthless fight
In the grave and born to save,
Christ himself, enclosed in grace.
Raised again, in shadows be,
His gloried gift for all to see.
Always will I die to me
To be at God's embroidered feet.
Wings on eagles will we fly,
Till all is earth is left to die.
Never will I leave my Lord,
My God, my shaft, and thriving sword!
Since Easter is coming up!
YOU ARE READING
Beating Rhymes in my Headphones
PoesíaMy thoughts of depression and happiness is adorned throughout the way I write poetry. :)
