The Cure

Alive and well is the beast in this land.

This cursed land in which we dwell.

Ignorance is bliss, we say,

But the knowledge of such danger, is necessity.

 

Preying and feasting

On all the breathing,

No matter what

We hold ourselves accountable.

 

When we face the beast and lose all our strength

“Where is the hand?” we cry

When things don’t go our way.

When trials come,

Desperation seeks

For the risen help our souls need.

But shall it grant the favor?

Bestow grace on the ungrateful fakes?

God help us.

 

Lord have mercy on us

For asking in time of need,

But giving a blind eye;

Turning the cold shoulder

When life is just fine.

We all deserve the worse.

Hell at its finest is all too good for me.

 

I deserve the bottom of the pit

Even tho it can’t be reached.

I should go there;

Dwell there.

 

I deserve the worst…

But then came the blood

Thicker than any other,

Stronger than any antidote.

The cure,

The thing that saves

 

The desperate and wicked.

This cure is the salvation of the beast

And his venom;

The poison it injects in each and every victim.

But I won’t be that victim any longer!

For the blood that was spilt offered me more than a death sentence,

But a life sentence

To freedom in eternal love and hope

Peace and joy.

 

The one thing that the beast is vulnerable-

The blood,

The cure.

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