Bruised


Feet bruised in sandals complimented with a reddish tone, skin damaged with a spirit big as stone, determined to become a thief of the character, while wearing a tunic that was woven in one piece, without a seam…

So it seems to be a painting of a war piece, backed by an infantry of prophesy to battle hate, and demolish hypocrisy, that was the philosophy no need for Socrates…

So you see… it was he who split the sea, his beliefs spit on by those that disagreed, although his intentions were low and meek, now on bended knee, the emotional teaching broke waves like an ocean, injecting a poison in the form of lecture, that spoke of the raptures people begin to take heed overwhelmed with grief, dancing with sin which introduced by his friend drunkenness; which feel in love with foolishness, in which gave no meaning to the term, soberness…

Now he has control of this, loose bowels, take a piss to release the non-sense, forgive my language knowing this is the end, I’m over this plant like earth; I could end it all right now with a slit wrist bleeding melody of pain on the piano keys the choir slowly plays a violin, when approached by a spirit that told me his feet were bruised in sandals complimented with a reddish tone, skin damaged with a spirit big as stone, who was determined to rob my character…

So you see… he recruited me with in his infantry to fulfill prophesy against hate and to demolish hypocrisy and in return he touches me in the most unconditional way, and redirects my life, I would say…

Converted with in belief I stared into his passion of Christ introduced has the Son of God, who came from the womb of Mary, whom hanged from the cross nailed, and buried within a rock of stone…  Jesus Christ!

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