*Okay everybody, I have decided to just go ahead and make this fiction (which it kinda is anyway) even though it's in poem form. Life will be easier this way. Hope you enjoy!*

They sell fruit in the markets, and bread.
Fish, too, and all the usual things.
But then there are some corner booths in the shade.
And they have a lot in jars,
a lot in tightly shut pouches.
A penny for this, a nickel for that... I dig in my pockets every time,
my useless change suddenly full of worth.

I hang stretched upon a naked tree
Pierced hands, pierced feet
Bleeding wounds -oh so many
A crown of thorns upon my head

About me stand my enemies
Laughing and deriding
Mocking me -but how I still love them
I created them each individually

Where is my God?
I am forsaken
Oh! How great are the sins on my soul!

Sins of which I am not guilty
A burden I took out of love

My children! I love thee!
My own! Come back to me!
Ah, how I thirst for souls!