What is this, this unkempt world
Where those who murder rule
How putrid is the holy scent
The demons teach the school
In times such water will expire
The tears of poverty’s lament
The suffering is all at times I see
As I ascend, the world is cruelly rent
What water bearer bears my soul?
What dreams have I awakened?
The father’s eye looks on such fire
And men of peace conspire the end
We have but one simplistic choice
To build the fires of peace or war
Yet animals and businessmen
Charged wicked Cain to guard the store
And Abel was not able to be free
By
Abbey Pope 