A boy sleeps upon a bed of nails

That gently caresses his skin.

No punctures and not a scratch 

But he dreams of chagrin.

There was a man at the market 

Who gave this bed for free.

He said it would only work

With faith as the key.

But like Peter walking on water,

He wakes and begins to fear,

For the boy worried what the man said

Was anything but sincere.

So he scrambles to his feet

But falls onto the floor

With gashes down his legs and hands

His faith was no more.