You were righteous and wise Yet you became despised Even hands washed in blood Could not defy the flood The burden that you bare Is one that can't be shared Your love on the alter Your will does not falter By friends you're forsaken From this world you're taken Soul bathed in pure crimson Most holy of treason Beautiful Anathema I think this might be my first poem that I ever wrote simply because I wanted to. All comments and criticisms are welcome.
