Martyrdom

Oh to be a saint in a stained glass window.
Oh to be a heavenly being with lips painted in blood.
Oh to be an angel with wings ever-reaching for heaven.
Oh for a halo of thorns to lay across my brow.
Oh for the torments of those I care for to be placed upon my shoulders.
Oh for a cross of sins to be constructed and given to me to carry.
Oh if only all the tears wept could come from my eyes.
Oh if only all the pain in the world could be felt by me alone.
Oh if only my love would be more potent than the strongest poison.
Oh to be a saint,
Oh to wear a halo of thorns,
Oh to shoulder a cross,
Oh to suffer like a saint.
Oh to bleed from a halo of thorns.
Oh to struggle beneath the weight of a cross.
Oh to be stabbed through the chest with a sword,
And find flower petals falling instead of blood.
Oh to be a saint.