Confronting Self

Dark of night, or light of day,
The cowards send deadly present,
A deadly game they want to play,
Yet, they cry, when we aren't pleasant.

As I sit here, in my office chair,
Watching news on my P C,
Bad enough to pull the hair,
Bad news, is always free.

My heart cries out for people,
Throughout the world, that's died,
Who pray beneath a steeple,
Condemned by witnesses that lied.

Witnesses, that play a game,
With the Christian, without defense,
Perhaps they mentioned a man's name,
And judgment of death, their recompense.

A young girl who sinned, by talking back,
To a young man in conversation,
Her head the target of bullet track,
May not live, over verbal confrontation.

Our Western thought, and intellect,
Foundationed on 'Rock of Love,'
Can't comprehend Hatred circumspect,
Without guidance from above.

Those people raised on combat, and hate,
Understand, they do good for their god,
Upon demise, find out their sad fate,
Only Love, can spare one from the Rod.

What makes this grown man, want to cry,
To see the path so many will choose,
While, God's Holy Word, beseeches, 'Don't die,'
Through Repentance, there's no way to lose.

If you care at all, to not make me cry,
Lift up your arms, and to Jesus, cry,
Once Saved, you will make Satan cry,
Belonging to Jesus, In Heaven, can't cry;
Nor Die.
AMEN