I Was Left A Cripple Man Poem by jafta maduna

For neither of men could tell of my broken legs, nor of my fading shoulders, and thy image, unto me lord, reflected of a mantis
thy light shone unto me tis obscure, of obscene, and of sin.

Yet ye christ, hath speaketh to me
Oh! Barren ears, what hast ye done?
Cursed is thee who carries thy sentiment, for the lord hath speaketh, yet sounds of rich melody hath nor done emptiness.

Should my heart be decorated of blisters?
Should my eyes see no more?
Speaketh, yet again Jesus, for I ask of you
for thou dust hath groped my skin, thy ways hath turned many, and enemies hath found a way to my shield.

Speaketh lord!
remind me of thy sacred ground, for tis of the blissful and the weary.
Amen