Lol, my first poem outside of an assignment, it's bad but enjoy.
The sins of the everyman
Hath him strung on the stake
Wrists cut and ankles bloodied
His body the sun to bake
He speaks,
"Art thine torments enough for thee?
Enough for thou to tear apart thine own soul
Forgive the past and set me free?
Feast thy eyes on a battered man
Have mercy on thy weathered spirit."
"Nay," I reply, "for thou are to suffer
For thou, to rot and waste
For thou, the vultures to done upon
To thieve you and make haste."
Back arched, head crooked
A final thought is cross't
Whispers his foul breath
"Alas The Game I've lost..."