Written by Chaka Px
Striped of all the glory
he walked into the room unclad
to reminiscence of his utterance before no one.
He is either yet to be dressed or it has been taken from him,
the coup of spiritual forces.
His dreams were to liberate the subject
But he was undressed.
The speech has been reharsed a thousand times,
yet it was flushed down the drain with vomit.
The undressed pope yet before noiseless crowd of his mirror,
Imagine his appearance to the disapproval of his religion.
“Dress my shame” he uttered
The applaud of his subject brought him back,
imaginations are major deal of focus.
Left behind his weakness
with multitude to view.
The Undressed Pope,
Is yet to be dressed.