{"sf1_id":1356177,"sf2_id":"eNbbgGYe","title":"Justifiable Suicide","author":"Mantrid_Brizon","words":329,"posted_at":"2018-08-01T04:21:00.000Z","tags":["Christian","Christianity","Death","Islam","Jewish","Judaism","Muslim","Persecution","Philosophy","Poem","Poetry","Prison","Religion","Rhyme","execution","jail"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/1356177-justifiable-suicide","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/s/eNbbgGYe","image_url":"https://cdn.sofurryfiles.com/submissions/thumbnails/2a/6b/2a6b4066-fbae-46ff-897e-2ca8a30292eb","description":"#11 of Poetry\n\nThe title is a play on words. This is a poem about religion and religious persecution, taken in a positive light. I wrote it from the perspective of Christianity, which is my faith, but the poem is vague enough to allow for any Judaic religion.","content":"Justifiable Suicide\n\n(01/17/2018)\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\nLife has been a struggle,\n\nWith the darkness in my heart,\n\nHis voice is often muddled,\n\nBut recognition is a start,\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\nI do the best I can,\n\nTo walk always in the light,\n\nI do not know His plan,\n\nIt's every mortal's plight,\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\nHis word is like a rock,\n\nIt supports me like a post,\n\nA ship moored at a dock,\n\nSaved from thrashing coast,\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\nHe's closer than a brother,\n\nForever at your side,\n\nMore loving than a mother,\n\nHe'll never run or hide,\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\nBut life is like a mire,\n\nOr a dark and perilous hall,\n\nDo not incur His ire,\n\nBy allowing yourself to fall,\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\nThe shadow's drawing nigh,\n\nBut His word is like a gun,\n\nOr a fire from the sky,\n\nThat makes the demons turn and run,\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\nAt the corners do I stand,\n\nAnd with His word I fight,\n\nBut the ruler of the land,\n\nUnderstands it as a blight,\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\nDo not live for the world,\n\nIt's a temporary plane,\n\nThey'll treat you like a burl,\n\nAnd think that you're insane,\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\nThey locked me in a prison,\n\nI don't regret a word,\n\nThe devil's inquisition,\n\nMy death will warn the herd,\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\nThey look to me with malice,\n\nThey're sharpening the blade,\n\nI drink from Holy chalice,\n\nAnd running to my grave,\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\nThey're building up a fire,\n\nAnd foaming at the maw,\n\nMy funerary pyre,\n\nCircling ravens caw,\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\nTo live as He commands,\n\nWill often bring you pain,\n\nLike countless grains of sand,\n\nBut we will live again,\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\nAnd now that I am gone,\n\nI finally know His peace,\n\nSlaughtered like a fawn,\n\nThey celebrate with feast,\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\nBut don't succumb to fear,\n\nYour spirit He will mend,\n\nHe whispers in your ear,\n\n'Their time is at an end',\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\nSo turn and face the beast,\n\nAs I have done before,\n\nDon't worry in the least,\n\nHe's already settled the score.\n\n  \n  \n\n","series":{"name":"Poetry","previous":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/1356176-synthesis.json","next":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/1356179-tiny-candles.json"}}