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My fingers laid upon His head

A crown of thorns


My mouth spat upon His face

A disgusting flood


My fists and feet left His body marred

Many welts even bled


My hands nailed His hands and feet

I only felt a little heat


My voice mocked Him hard

Wagging my head


My spear pierced His grace

Out came water and blood


My sins are why He was dead

I was a man with horns


(This poem utilizes a chiastic rhyming pattern)

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