The screams and terrors of unburied souls makes
It even more believable that the devil is in
Control.
The sleepless nights that one may live
Leaves it harder to escape and even more realer to
Feel.
But, why? Is always the number one question to be asked.
We’re living in color that leaves us like sardines that’s
Packed,
Together for a new war.
We’re supposed to be getting prepared but the sins is just
More distraction and controllable, our life changes from bad to
Horrible,
And you still wonder why God haven’t closed the
Portable.
Silly and easy to say, we’re becoming slaves, and buried in an open
Grave.
Say your prayers,
For God ears are always open, and our mouths are always
Frozen.
We penetrate into temptation and fantasize about dreams that’s
Hopeless.
Your words and my words together is respoken into an open
Chant,
And a revised message that screams loud like thunder and roars
Louder than a lion
Cry,
That leaves us under the devil control. Why is always the question,
And the word that ***** the life out of our body,
That leaves us lusted
And tempted again
To ask…
Why?





-Marci H.