Open Letter to the Murderers (part 2)
What else is there?
Here, amidst the library of this ruin,
Of all the eyes that blink,
Only the One above talks to me,
The law now they all uphold,
a casting of pearls to decrepidness of their own mire,
a ladder of merit is their underlying mission,
see now thier collpse in their own ultimate conceit.
So do you think it’s worth continuing,
to pretend intellignece amidst your sea of tears?
a learned man can claim the scriptures as fact
only to the emptiness of soul it proves it nothing
So is there a merit to your boast?, oh pharisee of pharsiees…
to compare the faults the other man as that,
to the equally bigger bloodstains in your own blackened hands?
Condemn them not, o simple brother of mine,
Do not put youself in the pedestal of your grotesque pride,
For here we are… the sick of the sick, the patient in need of the doctor,
The blood was shed, not only for a few good hundred,
But for the multitudes of the scum that is treasured by He,
Men as human as you, scars and all, the children in need of their father,
Won’t you say he loves them much…
as equally as He loves you?
