Oh Hell Thee, Praise You Highest Preacher On Earth Poem by clawdea benat

i signaled my men
come come you're weary eye
wipe that tears from your hands
the storm will came, all the devils will die
come come my oppress children for they make you rugs
i will make them ash
come come oh pitiful beauty of eden
innocent child broken by bandits
may we come what may
my punishments starting to rise
and so stand up and fight this innocence inside of you
be strong, dont fade like me
im dead, nobody cares.
im still living with this side of bright God had make it
realize not because a person dies so her soul too.