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He walked alone,  beside the other twelve.
This one, first loved, his thoughts always unknown,
Deserted by his numbered days, the self-
inflicted wounds were hidden from renown.
His brethren could not see his painful past,
For they as ordinary men were lost.
His future too was something they’d not last,
Or understand his life, his pain, his cost.
But can the darkest hours bring to light
the goodness secretly forgot within?
And can the darkest man betray the rite
Of fire,  forgiveness of his fellow men?
The sacrifice of nothing – little use,
Because a saviour died by broken noose.