The Wrath

The Wrath

Woe at midnight
The Lamb's off the nail.
Noisy waves of whipping,
Weeping, gnashing,
And reaping the wages
Of murdering mothers,
The nurturers of death.
It matters not
Artery, character, or mirror.
The Passion was as
Aggressive and abrasive,
As an abortion of innocence.
Now comes the turbulent justice and
Tabulation of tribute
That strikes down those who titillate,
Regulate, and stipulate,
Those too busy to be troubled
By eternal damnation.

18 Lines

FOLDER

My Poetry  (E) Come as you are. #2034965 by Vanishing Vapor