Poetry

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You have committed three crimes,
But God will not change His plans;
You have caused murder sometimes,
Which also involved your clans.

You refuse to show pity,
Instead your anger and rage;
Makes shambles of the city,
Looking as a war you wage.

Since you refuse to control,
God will be sending fire;
To burn your corrupted soul,
That holds your deep desire.

God set fire to the wall,
As well as the roof and floor;
Burning of the city hall,
The laws of man are no more.

While troops are shouting,
Upon the day of battle;
Some of them will be doubting,
Hearing snakes with tails that rattle.

And the winds will be howling,
Like the sound of hungry wolves;
And you could hear them prowling,
Sounding like thundering hooves.

Upon the day of the storm,
Your king will then be captured;
Charged with allowing reform,
Then taken to be tortured.


Copyright © 2013 Richard Newton Sherrer

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