Prophets

The tables turn faster than you could predict.

You are telling a story of how things will be, and he is beating you to the punch line with his fists. He is teaching you a lesson.

You see God in the shape of an ivory statue to your temple. This is his Temple; you will not make that mistake again - A blood sacrifice at his feet. You have no opportunity to save yourself and passersby cast a blind eye to your suffering.

Your salvation is silence, you have learnt not to cry - salt and gravel stings. You are punished for crimes no man commits. No court would hold you in contempt for this - but you are contemptful for your own stupidity. You are a victim of flagellation beyond the laws of God or Man.

He tears at the threads that make you, like he is your creator but he is your destroyer striking you down, from heavens to ground, dragging you through his Circus of hell.

Blasphemy with each blow. (As if God would help him with this). Charred and ashen, you are waiting for your Phoenix to rise.