I do not judege,those
I do not judege,
those shameful sinners,
but each wrong,
does fill my quiver.
Another notch,
of ammuntion,
an oncoming storm,
is intuition,
when they come,
as foaming beasts
will my arrows,
match their teeth?
Walls dissoled
by hate and scorn,
I'll tell you love,
you have been warned.
I die accomplished.