Crafty lies and foolish minds
That is the origin of our crime
Repeating small lies in daily grinds
Exacerbates it in time
On what line does fault lie?
Where do we cross from innocence?
We gnash our teeth and cry
In prisons of our own twisted sense
And yet a hand reaches down
Humiliating as it is to greet
The man wearing the thirty crown
On our knees, at His feet
Years and years of mud and blood
Make that smile hurt that much more
But in my heart there dwells a bud
A flower of hope, for me He bore
God bless,
>P<
Joshua Fahey
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