Naomh Briste

I am the shattered saint, patron of the broken
ahead a ragged army of the lost and the forsaken
I’m the empath with lost faith
the humanitarian with no trust
in humanity
I thank the gods that this will end
I thank the gods that none will care
I am the shabby martyr for all your sins
patron of the distraught and distressed
I’m the lonely voice for all the bereft
keening cry unheard
I am the silent scream of the crucified soul
thankful that none shall hear
I am the lost and lonely in overwhelming sea
I am the burned and bridled to witch’s stakes
I am the vengeance unspoke and the words unwrit
I am the sacrifice that you made
I am love without reason and hate in a word
I am passion personified
I am a figure left on a broken cross
in hands and side I bleed
I am the shattered saint without remorse
on whom the lovelorn feed
this army march with splitted tongues
and while they have their truth
I still must write these fractured words
thank gods it’s over soon

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