Gothic churches. Weathered graveyards.. Apocliptic forecasts are plastered on tha face of the media... ..... Lost disciples proudly wear robes staind with revenge like A montage of cantagious crusaders satnd alone.. The dead lay flacid without thought...... With tha immaculte conception of addiction comes a divine fury cold and sudden.... Our unborn children scream! out from their tombs.. take up arms an unify under tha wings of the rightious! , , We must sacrifice these rechied and purify our land with their blood...... (by) JEK
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem