Martyr

Photo by GRAS GRÜN on Unsplash

My words have left for the hills

They’ve been slaughtered

Like the fattest calf

And sent to the heavens

In billows of smoke

I hope god accepts them

I hope he let’s me come in

As spirit

After the slaughtering

I hope the priests eat well

Their bellies full enough to teach

And lead

And fight off wolves

I hope I was finally good enough

For something

-Saschia