While you grew despondent
And lost all faith in me
I slept, unaware
Or maybe only in denial
When the end came
It was like being betrayed to my enemies
I was jarred awake
And forced to face the truth of it
I am as twisted as the olive branches
My lord and his disciples slept beneath
I know now, I am my own enemy
You didn’t need thirty pieces of silver to see it
I cannot forgive you
Any more than I can forgive myself
I am no Christ Child
Perhaps I need this death
To be resurrected as something better
Or perhaps not
