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Pain In The Image Of Man

I will show you pain,
In the Image of Man,
Broken, torn, tattered,
In the palm of Time’s hand,
 
The Almighty Butcher,
Hands smooth with Blood,
Cut Flesh from Bone,
And sealed it with Mud,
 
He drove deep with Nails,
Poker glowing, burned into him Sin,
Wiped his forehead, cleaned his Hands,
And listened to the howlin’ wind,
 
He broke every bone to make structure fit,
No voice yet, the Man endured it,
Carving and molding, with no care or ease,
The Man felt, born in his belly,
A sickness of rage called Disease,
 
The Almighty Butcher gazed at the Man,
Standing bloodied and badly shaken,
He then cut the Man’s head and opened to fill,
Fear, then Love, then Hate, then Guilt,
 
The Almighty Butcher smiled, looked with delight,
His Creation, such a sight! But something wasn’t right,
He took the sharpest knife, cut open a mouth,
The Butcher suddenly reeled from the sound that came out:
 
“Flesh on fire, laying and starting to boil,
Ripping each nail off with Madness and Toil,
From His heart, Soul, the Man declared his pain,
Echoing on the entirety of mankind: “That Pain Remains!”
 
The Almighty Butcher grabbed for his Maul,
Began smashing, destroying what he had built,
Harsh wind flow, the great falling of a Maul,
Then silence; pale murdered silence was all,
 
The scraps, he put in the fire,
To burn away with time,
“Only a faulty design,” Such a wicked smile did creep,
“Ah yes, a faulty design…”
Then He grabbed the Almighty Broom and began to sweep…
Other works by Robert Thomas Halliwell...



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