Your sin is written,
With an iron pen;
And have been bitten,
By some evil men.
Your sin is engraved,
With a diamond tip;
And become enslaved,
Trouble makes you slip.
The pad of your heart,
That has an altar;
Are horns to impart,
And makes you falter.
Remember your dream,
When as a child;
A goddess was mean,
Made you be wild.
Beside the large trees,
Upon the high hills;
Where the gentle breeze,
Gave you many thrills.
On the mountain top,
In the countryside;
Where able to stop,
Thinking of your pride.
Wealth of your treasure,
Worshipping your sin;
Missing was pleasure,
Whence did it begin?
You will suffer loss,
At the hand of God;
Life will be chaos,
Since you do not laud.
You will see His wrath,
That burns forever;
With blocking your path,
Where you endeavor.
Remember the times,
You lost your reward;
Because of your crimes,
Disgrace to the Lord
Copyright © 2017 Richard Newton Sherrer
