Dark, cold, rainy, these long nights.

Where they keep to pain covered in frights.

Sentenced to a life in hell, pure hell,

There’s nary a soul to do them well,

Only the crack of a whip, a punch, a shove,

Never the tender feel of a mother’s love.

Forever the torments, forever their days,

While you behave in hypocritical ways.

Easy for you to ignore such plight,

Living your life blessed in God’s eyes so right?

For as long as you have a meal and a prayer,

What hell would you give to an innocence’s care!

Aha, but for you I wish this  fate this night,

And every night until your death’s delight,

To scream in terror, to feel their fright.

And for that you say, “this a poem a rant of hate.”

Yes it is. As is, the murder on your plate!

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