He Speaks
The world rid with filth, might ought to give it a rinse.
I am a vision that does not make any sense.
Oddly shaped, not symmetrically put together.
A crackling voice that does not calm the weather.
The clouds collide, when I come cracking down.
The skies light up, and the earth shakes the ground.
My wrath is almighty, its fierce and loud.
There is nothing quite like my obscure sound.
I give you opportunity and you close the door.
I am the voice of GOD in which you chose to ignore.
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