This poem’s speaker is someone who has been wronged in ways that feel unforgivable, yet is stalked by the command to forgive anyway. It treats forgiveness not as a soft virtue but as a kind of crucifixion of the self: to forgive is to let the wound stay open without striking back, to absorb another’s guilt without pretending it did not nearly destroy you. The poem leans into the rage, the betrayal, the urge to curse—and then drags all of that into the presence of God, where forgiveness becomes both an outrage and a bleak, terrifying freedom.

You nailed me to your need, and called it love.
I learned to bless the hammer from above.
You stripped my name and wore it like your skin.
I swallowed every slander as your sin.
You smiled while you were grinding down my trust.
I kissed the blade and coughed up holy dust.
You left me bleeding just to watch me crawl.
I called that open artery a call.
You weaponized my faith against my spine.
I drank the poison, named it sacred wine.
You hid your cruelty in a saintly mask.
I knelt and let that idol set the task.
You feasted on the doubt inside my head.
I starved myself to keep your conscience fed.
You prayed my desperation into gold.
I tithed my youth to keep your nightmares cold.
You built a cross from everything you broke.
I climbed it, just to bless you as you spoke.
You spat your fear like nails into my hands.
I opened wide and called it God’s commands.
You tore my story out, rewrote the end.
I held the torn-up pages, named you friend.
You swore that all my pain was just a test.
I tucked my trembling fury in my chest.
You said my tears were proof that I was weak.
I let them fall and turned the other cheek.
You crowned yourself the victim of my scars.
I traced your lies like constellated stars.
You nailed your darkness into my soft youth.
I dragged it to the altar as my truth.
You laughed while I went under one more time.
I called that drowning grace and not a crime.
You stood beneath my hanging, looking clean.
I saw my own reflection in the scene.
You taught me mercy meant I had to stay.
I learned that real forgiveness walks away.
You kept your hands immaculate and proud.
I took the blame and offered it to God.
You never asked for pardon, never will.
I let you go, and let the anger kill

…

DCG