Poem 72 : Air of Misfortune
Air of Misfortune - T ABRAHAM
It was the worst of all times,
The air of misery was surrounding,
To be a laughing stock always,
To be mocked at,
Worst of all is the fakeness,
Surrounded by new faces,
Faces of construction,
Faces for destruction,
Souls to recreate my wounded soul,
Souls to lean upon,
The misfortune keeps chasing,
Chasing till this day,
Worst of all,
Do they posses a heart ?
Do they have a brain ?
Totally evil,
Just like the legion,
Christ will drive them away,
They would drown and perish,
Your broken soul will be mended,
Will be mended with God's love.
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