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Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Crucified

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I was a soldier in the Roman Empire. I was a thief, murderer, and liar. I was there when Christ was placed under arrest. Foolish nonsense, I once confessed. I took him to the prison, damp and dark. I beat him senseless and left my mark. The thrashing I gave would have left most men dead. I placed a crown of thorns upon his head. I took his clothes and gambled them away. I told him he would not last the day. From sturdy Dogwood, a cross was made. Under intense abuse, still he prayed. He carried the cross upon his shoulder. I was hateful, but the crowd was colder. They called him a fool and ...

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