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How long the chains of my inequities,
The mortal binds that entrap me,
To wrest with effete hands, failing to succor a bereaved faith.
How far the distance from my children,
Up on flaming stakes, piqued heads nodding scarily in silent judgment to their fathers lacking

How loud the bugles of war,
Testimony to far away sins relived,
Earth tremble beneath clasping souls,
When at last a dowdy dove fell,
broken of breast to lay upon the rich mans table,
Gluttony on spirit, leech upon innocence,

Holy Man that held the bow,
your arrow grounded the poor mans` faith,
As on bended wing she fell,
You heard the bells of hell

Ring-ting-ring-ting-

Cheery muse to lead you down,
Into soot filled helms
Your greed the mellow tempest
Rendered Atlantis faulted to a childhood fairy tale
Easily dismissed as Heavens' blunder

How long the chains of my inequities,
The mortal binds that entrap me,
To wrest with effete hands, failing to succor a bereaved faith.

Learn more about this author, Isadora Pandora.
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