He felt the scourge remove his skin
Strip by bloody strip
And actually heard the flesh begin
To agonizingly rip
He wondered why this jackboot thug
Would do as he was told
By leaders who would simply shrug
With chilling eyes, so cold
They showed no signs of empathy
To those enduring loss
For vowing humble loyalty
To one that bore the cross.
He knew that he would soon be ‘asked’
To make a final choice
By party peons (properly masked)
And he would choose REJOICE!
Are You Reading Me?
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