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Rated: E · Poetry · Religious · #1558737
Like "Eyes of the Virgin", but from Jesus's side.
What would you do if you were the Son,

the Son of God, the Holy One?

You know you are going to die to save man.

You're the King of Kings, the pure white Lamb.

Betrayed by a man that is like your brother

Even though you don't share the same mother,

you love him like you love all the others.

A man who claimed to always follow you

Sold you to the Romans, and betrayed by the Jews.

Your own people, the ones you taught

Traded you in without a second thought.

Beaten and spit on by the guards that carried you away

Wouldn't believe a single word that you say.

Brought before the court accused of blaspheming,

They didn't know that this was the devil's scheming.

The blood runs down your face like a river,

Judas betrayed you for thirty pieces of silver.

"He works by power of devils," the men yell about you

"He's a magician, not a prophet, he's just a fool!"

They spit in your face and beat you some more

And while they do this, Peter is lurking in the door.

They say they saw him with you while you were doing your chores,

But Peter denies he's ever seen you before.

Two more times they accuse, two more times he denies,

But deep down he knows that he is telling a lie.

"Three times you will deny me before the cock crows,"

As he remembers, tears roll down his nose.

You're led out to the street where you go before the judge.

He doesn't know what you've done, so he has no grudge.

He asks what you did to be brough before him,

What was done that was such a great sin.

He finds no wrong in you and send you to the Jews.

They bring you to Herod who finds nothing in you.

So you're back again before the Roman leader

"If you set him free, you're no friend to Ceasar."

Against his best will, he orders you whipped,

But so they won't kill you, he writes them a script,

and when they are done, your body is flipped.

Again on your chest and your stomach they hit

Your body hurts so bad and your flesh is split.

Beaten with a whip made of bone and glass,

You hope that the torture for long won't last.

Finally it's over, but they people want more,

But your body is already bruised and sore.

"To death!" they chant to the Roman men.

"We want him crucified so he can't lie again!"

They give you a cross and make you carry it on your own.

They put on your head a crown made of thorns.

You fall several times as you stumble down the street,

The guards are ruthless as they pull you to your feet.

At last, you're on top of a hill

Where two other sinners are doomed to be killed.

They nail you to the cross, your hands and feet

As they raise you up, it's almost complete.

The man hanging on your right denies you

But the man on the left glorifies you.

Struggling to draw one more breath,

You know the world will be saved by your death.

Then you die, the devil is defeated

Finally now it is completed.

Three days later Mary went to your tomb

All she could find was an empty room.

All this was planned out before you were in the womb

To bring the devil to his doom.

Now the world won't suffer long

Because we know you're the Son of God.
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