Crown of Thorns

Years ago, I wondered and dreamed.

That I could be the one to help them all.

I was beginning to spread myself thin.

And stopped trying to involve myself at all.

Now, I must carry on. Put my crown on my head. And move on. I must keep on going;

places that I have never been before.

And open doors for myself to walk in.

And they have never been open before.

And in time these doors will open for people

Who march to the same drum. No matter

Where they come from. Now, I must carry on. Put my crown on my head. And move on. 

I wear my crown of thorns. On my tight forehead. I wear my crown of thorns.

All of this bloodshed. I wear my crown of thorns. On my tight forehead. I wear my crown of thorns. Will I be dead, soon?

At the center of the plane where loved ones always regained the day of sacrifice and love.

Oh my Father. I'm not Jesus. I'm not even your son. I'm a black sheep, or a member of the pink flock.  You can be relieved- I'm not that religious. Now, I must carry on. Put my crown on my head. And move on.