I left at the unintentional stroke of a sword
It was evening, and I was on my knees, speaking with the lord
There was a clamor behind my back
I didn’t turn at first, for it wasn’t rare
And I was far too immersed in my prayer
Two drunks in that bar, note, the bar was mine
They were fighting for love, or for lust, or for wine
Unholy, I muttered, those ungrateful swine
Then one drew his weapon, swung it straight in a line
You recall he was drunk, so all lines were blurred
Like his his vision
I did not speak, he did not swing with precision
God looked on in derision
“Love thy neighbor,” he spoke
Yes, I heard God talk
Suddenly, I could no longer walk
I could not get off of my knees, you see
And that’s how they found me
The drunks were gone, and there lay I
My body consumed, for it was my time to die.
hey you got “ungrateful swine” into poetry ! plus swords and death. good job baby.