TRAMPLED.

Face turns backwards when he try to Look ahead.

Useless journeys of contrition,

Illusions; Hurts

Forwardness is never a language that tastes sweet on his native tongue

Face frowns

Heart folds, like brown

Paper bag,

On the sidewalk

Trampled

A pillar of salt in a lonely desert

Salt has lost its

Savor, It’s

Savior?

Cry out

Cry out

If you will Cry out

To Jesus

Wide open hands, a

Savior beckons, and waits with warmth;

The prodigals