FILTH

By Joseph Edward Johnson



Pouring blood ran into the temple foundation,

The heathens had forfeited their salvation.

They cried aloud together with one voice,

As their god revealed his final choice.


The skies fell in the ensuing, violent cataclysm,

Spirits released from their fleshy prison.

Bones and bodies break like glass,

Judgement has come to pass.


Screams fill the air demanding safe sanctuary,

Red ink signs the line of humanity's obituary.

Dirty hands come together for the first time,

In the hopes of a pardon for their crime.


They should know God has the power to create,

But there is no power like his ability to hate.

The bodies start to litter the Earth,

All part of the bloody rebirth.


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