OF TO CHURCH

Happy and cheerful
Of to death
to the place
Were souls are
STOLEN
hearts are broken
Minds in dispute
For the lie
Is ever present
Were individual taught
Is quickly rebuked
To be apart
Of the group

The driver leads us quickly
To were our destinies
Are forcefully made
To bind us
To His will
With the gospel
The shekels
Fear of the end times
His stern hand

Mother force me not
To go to the palace
Of the tortured
And killed








(Wrote this poem on my way to church)