Who to die for.

A Poem by dukovan

A carpenter on his knees,
dodging the breeze.
Working for his wife,
while God's time is pending.

A tack, torn out the wall,
tugged a little harder,
trying like a father.
You don't know,
what you don't see.

I see the trees,
bend a little farther.
Where did it start,
it ends with,
a martyr.

A plaque torn off a cross,
I'll carry it myself.
No time,
if you're promising us hell.
No time,
to do it for yourself.

So where do I start,
to end as a martyr.
Who are you dying for?
A chopped tree for,
a carpenter.