i.

Woe unto thee O' man, making woman thine thrall, beating her, bruising her, O' how God dost see it all. Woe unto thee making innocent toy-***-slaves, build thy Bunker's in thine deep caves, for thy statues and idols wilt be moth-eaten, cankered; just as thy silver and gold.

ii.

Woe unto thee O' man, taking innocent soul's, young men fight and die, whilst dear mother's cry, look to the sky's; for the signs of Prophecy art awake, stay alert O' elite men for how the ground is soon to quake.

iii.

Woe unto thee O' man, blasting bomb's in foreign lands, making robots human, and robots men; how technology hast become thine own savior. But thou shan't be saved, just running away, as thy streets wilt fill with the blood to be spilt and crumbling skyscrapers.

iv.

Woe unto thee O' man, spraying chemicals in ourn midst, slowly murdering the innocent; whilst thou drinketh toddlers cruor to keep alive another day.

v.

Woe unto thee O' man, pushing deception on TV, media puppets thou doth feed, CIA infiltration with thy greed. O' soon thy airwaves wilt be shocking. Thy earth
Wilt mourn like cradles rocking,
Making Christmas not of the
Messiah but of stockings,
Filled with lust and
Filth.

vi.

Woe unto thee O' man, grab some stilts, walk highly with thy head in the clouds, as thou hath all pride and None shame.

vii.

Woe unto thee O' man, for thou knowest not pain, for what's coming to this sphere shalt make men's hearts fail them.

viii.

Woe unto thee O' man, judgements art coming as I shalt detail some thing's as
For me to thee I was sent. Quakes in high
Magnitude, an Antichrist and his false
Prophet, whom shalt rule for seven year's,
A mark of the beast (RFID chip) in the forehead and right hand, don't yet shed none tears yet for these things all were
Planned. A one world religion coming
Together as the false prophet wilt make,
The last 113th Pope is here, many lies
He gives and takes. Predicted by two
Saint Malachi's, of the last great deciever
Of the Church; he gathers all religions as the Bible dost sayest, so don't let thy feelings get hurt. All religions wilt gather, after the rapture of the church, the rapture is Jesus Christ rescuing his People, from the Antichrists coming scorch. As in the moment in the twinkling of an eye, believers in Jesus Christ like bird's wilt disappear and fly, high in the clouds to meet ourn Lord in the air, news channels wilt be reporting (MILLIONS PLUS MISSING) MANY NOT HERE!) The Antichrist is here now, he wilt soon (return) many will bow to an image made for him during the seven years of God's judgement that shalt be felt-heard. The Antichrist shalt hath anyone killed who doesn't worship his fatal image, for anyone whom takes his mark (RFID chip) wilt be eternally ****** for hells own wishes. Though Christ didst not come for to judge the world, but to save, the sinners, all humanity, were all sinner's on display. For Christ died on that cross, was mocked spat upon, beard ripped out, holes in wrists and feet, after his soul left his body the sun turned dark, the moon blood the Earth's shook for his own People killed gods son, the only name that gets thee to heaven; Yeshua hamashiach ( Jesus the Messiah) alpha, Omega, beginning and end. Life of living water, bread from heaven. He's always the same yesterday and today. As must I sayest to fireballs shalt come, and tsunamis so high people can't run. War wilt be nuclear as battles shalt rage in Israel, Christ came not for thy damnation as thou hath been taught, he came to save the soul. The Lord said ( I am the way truth and the life, no man cometh to the father God but by me,) that means only through Jesus, gods son, canst thou be free. Theres none other escape from these things coming to pass and things to be. Salvation was payed on that cross for thou and me. Now it's they own decision where thou Wilt spend eternity, a very real hell descibed in death and ourn gospels seen. Yet don't take mine word reader, thou canst try to ignore all the day, I just came to tell thee who died for thee, Yeshua (Jesus) his name. There's much more I couldst sayest but I'll leave thee with this, John 3:16,( For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.) He opens his arm's to thee O' reader, it's time to make thy choice, the morrow
Might not be here for thee, Christ offers
These words with his voice.

© Brandon nagley
© Lonesome poet's poetry

I picked up a pen and paper.
In hope that I wouldn't be such a failure
At writing down exactly what I felt.
I watched the candle wax melt,
I stared at that flickering flame
Thinking about the person I became.  
I don't know who I am anymore.  
I'm not even sure if I remember who I was before.
Before all the pain...
Before all the tears and secrets these walls contain.
Before my thoughts took over my brain.  
Before all this became more than I could explain.
In time I've adopted a forced laugh;
A smile seen in a photograph
All over social media just to convince everyone
I'm out being " happy" and having fun.
Convince them enough so even I believe in that lie.  
Do you know what it's like to have a body that wants to live but a mind that wants to die?
To have a constant battle every morning to get out of bed,
Because you're so tired from being up all night listening to the chaos that exists only in your head?
Do you know what it's like to want to cry
But come to the point of being completely dry...
Cause you're all cried out?
To scream and shout
At the top of your lungs but no one can hear you?
To want to tell someone but no one will ever understand what you have been through?
I'm not sad anymore, I am numb.
This is what I have become.
And I knew this was somehow worse than what I used to feel.
How do you heal something that doesn't feel real?
Something that is no longer alive but simply exists.  
When the scars on your wrists
Become almost like lists
Of all the things your demon insists
That you are.
Not enough of something with every scar.
Not good enough, not smart enough, not worthy enough...
Sure as hell not that tough.  
When hydromorphone becomes the chaser to your whiskey,
I thought of this as my paper remained empty.
I wanted to write exactly how I felt and I couldn't have descibed it any better.