The Cross of Truth


I was born under a cross of truth,
and blood sealed my bed of birth.
I was forsaken all my youth,
robbed of my precious worth.

I curse the sky with the half-lit moon.
The seaside where the water lilies rest.
I died that day in bloody June,
when I saw the mountain's crest.

I searched this life for truth and guilt.
Whip and nails - my weapon of choice.
All I found was betrayal and filth.
A mournful, sorrow voice.

I stand in fear looking over the hills,
on this bloody day of June.
When I fall I catch the mighty chills,
and I rest with the angels soon.



Poetry by Daybreaker
Read 555 times
Written on 2006-08-02 at 15:50

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Surei
This has so much pain and suffering in it.....how can that be possible.........

"Forsaken all my youth,
robbed of my precious worth"

I don't know what to say, Im at a loss for words.........

1 million hugs!

I truly love your poems!
2006-08-16


Arti
The only thing thats coming to my mind after this read is to offer you a bunch of big hugs... ((((((((((((((BIG HUGS)))))))))))))
2006-08-03


Dan Cederholm
********************************

WOW and Bravo an outstanding poem!

I can read it like you was climbing in the

mountains and also its a fight for life in

a war . . . ! ?

Regards Dan

*********************************
2006-08-02


Kathy Lockhart
wow! the images are outstanding! The sorrow, pain, and suffering are deeply and vividly portrayed. kathy
2006-08-02