Beaten and battered,
The Angel lies,
Its head is bloodied,
Sir are not Angels meant to stand tall?
A whimper is heard,
As they roll the Angel away,
Its clothes are torn,
Sir are not Angels meant to stand proud?
Tears roll down its face,
As they pack it in a van,
Its bones are broken,
Sir why has this Angel be forsaken?
"Child" you say,
"This Angel has done your Lord wrong."
"(Or so say the humans.)"
“Praise be to him that he sent it packing”
Sir, sir, what did this Angel do?
"He questioned." you say,
Is that all he did?
"Yes" you say,
But sir what did he question?
"He questioned what the world had to say."
Is all you will say,
But sir that cannot be,
Does not my Lord question this world of ours?
You do not answer, you turn your back on me,
Sir, sir why am I not forsaken like that Angel?
I question this world every day,
"Child you are that Angel,"
"You have been sent to heaven,"
"I am your Lord, you real Lord,"
"The one that has forsaken you,"
"Is the very earth you live on."
I look up at you,
But sir how can this be?
"It just is,"
I sit down and watch you walk away,
You whisper "praise be humans,"
"When they kill an innocent child,"
As you walk along a tear comes to your eye,
Lord Jesus, why are you crying,
Why does this hurt you so?
I am but a small person no more than a child,
"Child you did not deserve to die,"
"All you did was question what someone said,"
"You didn’t even question God's word,"
"And yet they stoned you for it,"
But sir why does this make you cry?
"Because you are all like my brothers and sisters."
Sir I am not worth it, please don’t cry,
"Come child meet your Lord God."
