They persecute me
like Jesus with
holes in my hands
reminding me that I was
a savior walking on dead bodies
The only thing they feared
were my intentions,
fazed by the silence,
no choice but to assume there’s hidden motives.
“It’s me against the world”
and they would crucify my actions
for their dirty deeds.
I suffered so I could surpass their animosity
with blood flowing through my eyes
covering their sins just to save them.