did they think not
their secret would be found
silly of them to think their lie could endure
planted beneath a sycamore
a quite shame bounds
the two of them forever obscure
to live life in shame
hounded by hell's hounds
without a bone to barter
their futures bleak for sure
living life's regrets standing on hollow ground
beneath a sycamore
where wild flowers spoor
a note of regret
for who soever shall find whim
hangs their life and dreams
dancing on the wind
This poem is about the degeneration of the human soul caused by the continuing practice of
aborticide
Which eviscerates the soul of man leaving him a crumbled mess entirely opposite of what God intended. There is no prompt or inspiration that lead to this. It just formed, I am only the vessel. Abortion leaves an indelible bane upon us as universal beings. Fact: Not so long ago we use take the female newborn outback and bury under a tree. Now we got abortion pills. There is a war going on right before our eyes. The War of Procreation. Will the next Coming of God be lost in its shuffle?