Bitter Harvest of Thy Wickedness
Bitter Harvest Of Thy Wickedness
Thou hast slain thousands for that golden throne
Sleep in peace upon a silk laden bed.
Why now in old age, do thy dare to moan
In deep fear of ghosts of those murdered dead?
Are not thy treasure vaults filled to the brim
With stolen wealth from lambs of this dark world?
Yet thy black heart, feels the murder of him
And that Heaven bolt that may soon be hurled!
Triumph in destruction tis' bitter fruit
And thy wicked soul now sees the true light
Yet thou sprang from dark tree's most evil root
To try to bring forth never ending night!
Thou hast slain thousands for that golden throne.
Why now in old age, do thou dare to moan?
R. J. Lindley,
Jan. 11th, 1980
Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2016
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