Lxxxvi
Man, why must thou do evil to evil?
Why must your fellow man fall by your hands?
Why in you evil you be so agile?
Why evil in your hands by sure commands?
Thou shall not kill, you have surely forgotten
Should a life for a life be your true creed?
In Americus, something is rotten
Rotten to the core, your murderous deed.
Night after night by the TV’s bright light
We are told daily that someone has died
We hear of those who only kill for sprite.
True, in heaven your soul shall be denied.
O man, where forth are thy truly petty
You stink of murder, your soul is sweaty.
poem by David E. Patton
Added by Poetry Lover
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