Lethargic, melancholic, dreary.
Waiting, hopeless, twisted fate hanging
In the balance, drawn out.
Living in the dread of the choice
They dishonestly and dishonorably made.
They discuss, argue, vent,
They are on exterior mesmerizing,
Almost pleasing, in their heart,
Dark, unkind, wells of evil, men?
Making motions and loving their power.
Their terrible impact on my psyche sips!
Aaahh! Who are these sons of the earth,
Commending themselves unto gods,
Lustfully holding sacraments of desecration.
In salvation they devour, in service they rip.
Open painful wincing, and secret joyful glee.
My pain is their joy, my wince their glee.
I call you to judge, twist me and them.
They sought me out, and trusting;
Oh! Foolish me, consent I gave.
Consent they took and oppression returned.
In the dying throes of my painful death
Of hunger, crime, injustice and pain unabated,
One last curse I pronounce on them.
That their foods rot in their belly,
And their eyes blinded by greed.
Now I rest, in hope eternal…!
Send to a friend
Print this poem
Write A Review
