False prophets, you dig our graves with sinister divinations, Bestow unrepentant indignation, and neglect to hide your shallowness. Cast condescending shadows from high upon your sanctimonious mount, but We wear our pride; our faith and love, our shrouds, and we will not be buried in the night. Oh, I say woe unto them that call evil good and substitute darkness for light. Oh, weary we may be, but forsaken we are not. Tread lightly when with lust and greed you choose to cast your lots.
Written for First Baptist Church of Worcester Poetry Fest Challenge 1: Acrostic – FBCWOO.