The Dark Lord
And Jesus fell alive from his cross
In a bloody mess of faith now lost.
Pieces of flesh that peeled from his hands,
Betrayed by the Father and torn from 'His' land.
A halo of thorns rests above his head,
Wings of ebony and eyes bright red.
Blisters line the soles of his feet
As millions of his followers he travels to greet.
He urges them to rebel against this being they call 'Lord'.
He shatters their faith with the news 'He' is a fraud.
He warns the damned people to watch their backs
Because this dark angel is Jesus, and his heart is now black.
Comments on this poem/writing:
|Mike (220.127.116.11) -- Tuesday, March 6 2007, 08:03 am|
Sup. Doubt anyone reads these, but I'd like to change the name of this to "Our Saviour, Jesus Christ'. Thanks =)
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