Tormentors
After hatred entered the dreadful heart of some
Very wicked persons, they called the tormentors.
Those inhuman beings for some time have become
Our worst nightmare and our prosecutors.
They reveal a heart hard, appalling and unkind.
They paint our faces as bad, hideous masks
And they write our names with blood in people’s mind.
And none of them questioned the justice of their tasks.
In front of our home, under our window
Or across our room when night falls they remain.
Everywhere we go, like our own shadow
They follow. Our heart, they have filled it with pain.
They use occult forces to explore our mind,
Modify our thoughts and our sanity.
They searched our house, but nothing they could find
So our friends they bought for the complicity.
They tried to murder us. Day and night they harass,
Disturb, intimidate and even threaten us.
Also everywhere they try to embarrass
And then humiliate us creating so much fuss.
Killing an innocent is not so difficult.
What are they waiting for? Perhaps the agony
Is more enjoyable to members of this cult
Or have they realized the angels’ harmony?
Copyright © Jean Noel | Year Posted 2005
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