if I spit scripts
wit zealot warriors
looking for revolution
will the son shine on them
still minds bend
in the face of true
believers searching
for answers from
allegories written
in the dark ages
kept alive by fear
who listens to three cry
of suicide dealers
waiting to find exile
before dawn
using scripture
as fear mongers teach
the innocent
there its no shame in them
idol threats fall like water
from the eyes of children
often unseen
speak from the bowels
of ones own experience
and watch
the lonely torment
of painful beginnings
often finds a home
in causing division
among friends
go away and hide among the Ashes
of a fire blown out
before causing true harm
love has never needed
anyone but everyone has needed
love...