God bled out in an alley from forty-two stab wounds.
You could read all about it in the papers:
He was walking home with two paper bags full of groceries
When some good samaritans approached Him and said they knew a shortcut
And so they took Him to heaven,
But He must've been confused;
He left behind His fresh sourdough loaf, His eggs,
His Greek yogurt, all of His produce,
Two New York strips, and a "Get Well Soon" card.
His leather wallet, all emptied out, laid by Him too.
Twin angels came and covered the scene
With a blinding flash and a morose look,
And suddenly there wasn't a trace of Him left
From out there to within our hearts.
There only Was.
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