Something Different

I'm going to try my hand at a little poetry. Periodically, I've been known to scribble out some prose, on the encouragement of a friend of mine I'm going to give it a shot.

Last Hours

The whip cracks with a mighty thunder, as it tears into the skin
Pulling out bloody chunks of skin and sinew, a few more hours until the end.
In a dazed, disheveled mess thorns are buried into My head,
Blood streams down my face, burning my eyes, as I blurily
stare upon the Cross, on which I will soon be dead.

My body is in agony as I shoulder the Cross against my savagely beaten frame,
Insults are hurled, as Simon carries the burden for Me as I've become lame.
I am lain on cedar, with iron spikes my hands and feet are cloven to the wood
To hold up a body no longer recognizable to those who normally would.
Spit mixes in with the dripping blood and sweat,
My side is pierced, as I have given my last breath.

Fear not, it was not I who was defeated on the Cross,
On that day, sin was given a permanent loss.
I've sacrificed My life,
I've taken every evil,
I've healed every wound,
I've dried every tear,
That Day on the Cross.