If Kingdom Comes, We'll Be Undone

We are on the crux, The cusp of kingdom come, In which our own becomes undone, Our lands, our bodies, Shall be seized by the folly of a smoking gun. Proof of tyranny has evaded eyes, Yet play before them still, A lack of empathy, incessant lies, Have become the suzerain’s will. We’ve lost the right to our own bellies. For the sake of an imbecilic minority. Obsequious obsessions for geriatric orange jelly, Will trade our freedoms for a felon in authority. One by one they’ll fall, The pillars of the self will collapse by the false promises for something Greater, Which never existed. Those with a mind know that Greatness only exists in a pursuit aimed forward, Now more than ever. Yet idolatry has triumphed, Empowered by obvious lies from tyrants, Who laugh from far places; Laughter gushes from eastern airs whence the cold has spread. And proselytizes the dullard sycophants, Who don’t actually care whether a baby is dead. Ah yes, the self-aggrandized righteousness of Christ’s devotees, Who wish to reverse the very spin of Earth, Pretending care for what’s in the wombs of thee, Putting little worth in what comes with and after birth. Pretenders claim the children are groomed, By “the elite”, or the transphobic fault, Caring nothing for why real children are doomed: A Church, whose tradition is child sexual assault. Now is the time, America, to decide our fate, I know I’d rather a man who seems too old, Than one who’s sole expression is hate, And only goal is to seize more gold.