Author Information
Blind
Folder:
Society My rating for this poem: *** and a half
(*-pure crap, **-Not so Great, ***-Farely decent, ****- Excellent, *****- Outstanding)
The blackened thorn is all they see,
But we see the truth,
To be reborn, would set them free,
It would be like pulling a tooth.
Of all the things that we could do,
None would mean the most,
To let them walk in another’s shoes,
To take another host.
If they could see, the misery, of all that they have shunned,
Then they could be, like wizardry, the ones to take the pun.
Of all the blinded people among a sea of hate,
Only some will recognize, only some have faith.
A time of sorrow is beckoning all their false truths,
Churches might start filling up, as will confession booths.
Their blind, can’t save them now
Their blind, by a deadly shroud
Their blind, but there is a way how,
To save them from that hateful cloud.
Once the world is through, only God will judge
The whole rat race, all in all, and count against our grudge.
A shroud of hate,
A turban of truth,
A cloud of death,
A sword of justice.
A sword of justice will vanquish those who wrought the cloud of death.
A turban of truth shall adorn those who wear the shroud of hate.
Once all is said and done, and Armageddon has come,
3 fates will come to judge, the quick and the dead,
And our battle will be won.
