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And without the Grace, of God
The children could not oft to play.
Like dog and Masters often do,
With pleading paw and Punish Hand.
When messy life flow dare to twine,
As markers muddle White-Wash Walls.

And without the Grace of God,
The demons lust for holy wine,
Ambrosia to their lips, ecsta-
Cy below. The hot waves of hell-
Fire lapping at the nape- so love-
Ly, the soft dark embrace the tangle-
D mass of branches, roots and ori-
Fice. The hot winds blow the demons
To and fro. Up and down so they
Go. Sighs and pines surround the lot.

Crumpled cloth to hide the mess,
So torn back expose lack of
Dress- by Righteous Hand the cur-
Tain falls. Discovery! That
Is all of their fun, shot through
With pain; exclusion of one.

And without the Grace of God,
That one falls from the Holy House,
Never to return, gifted with
The Gift of Doubt, doubt of that one
Inside Gods House. Quarell begins,
But to no avail. His word is
Final. That one has no place to stay.

And without the Grace of God,
The children could not oft to play.
As Cage keeps canary and finch,
So are freedom without Gods Word.

~ LuciferD.Convention

I found this poem interesting so I decided to put it in my journal so I wouldn't have to save it to my Thread subscriptions. O'well. I just.... I didn't particually care for it, but I thought it was thought of not just scribbled.I found it.... interesting and I also didn't care to much for the use of hyphenes.

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