Divine Contentions.


The smell of rotten flowers,

hugging his breath as he dragged down the street,

Looking left, right,feeling the weird looks they gave him,

None wanting to look, but their eyes looking anyway,

And his hope fading, with every single step,

As the dungeons awaited.


Finding it weird that they looked on,

He had fought for what they stood for,

Been crucified for what the sea of humanity

did think right,

So he looked dead right ahead,

Right into their eyes with a glaze in his,

And they felt, the burn of their guilt,

The awkward of their betrayal,

But not much they could do,


They had sold him, him who was theirs,

Into the hands of the enemies,

His enemies,

The guilt bit into them, the chains into his feet,

The dungeons moving a little closer


via Daily Prompt: Awkward

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