Lamb Of God

Seven is my lucky number, I kneel, there’s nothing I can’t see. When I speak, I speak in tongues, when I drink, wine sustains me.

Seven is my lucky number, seven for mans sin, seven for your golden robes, seven for your kin.

Seven is my lucky number, seven of my horns, pierce the hands that feed me, holds my crown of thorns.

Seven is my lucky number, seven of my eyes, slit right through the middle of them, fourteen halves am I.

Seven is my lucky number, wool that’s coarse and thin, thin the meat upon my bones, make it outside in.

Seven is my lucky number, sit upon thy throne, shame the pharisees and fools, turn them all to stone.

Seven is my lucky number, he is just and true, slaughter me to prove a point, even though it’s not true.

Here I lie, my bed of roses, mouth agape, fourteen eyes frozen, my body’s cold, blood runneth down, my horns and thistles, my thorny crown, my stomach opened, posey filled, my hooves still muddied, my life fulfilled. That’s my purpose, my endless night, die not for glory, die out of spite.

Look upon thy holy steeple, poor and lonely bastard people.

Look upon thy holy martyr, look to me for mercy, look at me to heal your dying, water for your thirsty.

Though Jesus wakes but three days later, I’ll stay here and feel no greater. Sheep of Jesus, god of lamb, shepherd left my body damned, there’s no cross, no resurrection, I can offer no protection. Seven horns and seven eyes, he died for sin and died for lies, I died for nothing, tale, a bore, but worst of all I die a metaphor.

Comment 1: https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/123835s/never_look_back/jdu1qic/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=ioscss&utm_content=1&utm_term=1&context=3

Comment 2: https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/122zp9t/sunday_night/jdu1y93/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=ioscss&utm_content=1&utm_term=1&context=3

(Sorry for the long poem, also sorry if it sucked lol, just trying it out ig)