Beggings Growing Nigh Poem by Saint Cynosure

Clear the spot to rest your knee,
your beggings growing high.
For evil has we've never seen,
power from a high.
Hatred for the word of GOD,
and obvious of right.
Cast the sun into sea,
and each a man in darkness.
Pestilence has little bumps,
have cancered up your skin,
None shall cast a smile no more
Their suffering begins
Hungry for the word of GOD,
And the faith it takes to heal.
Awaits the devils army close,
marching forth to kill.
Churches full but for one thing,
the comfort of the lie.
Clear the spot to rest your knee,
your begging growing nigh...