God's Moon
They treasure death
these claques called man.
They treasure death
each act and fan.
They open up
for death and horror.
They place their faith
in fait and moar.
They come to God
for more than sin.
They claim he's all
that waits to win.
And when they say
he's coming soon.
They pray for more
than barks at moon.
Copyright © Trevor Mcleod | Year Posted 2019
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment