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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Contest Entry · #2198861
Free verse
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



 
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