Heaven is so real, it Almost doesn't exist satan having a crack at you-turning into a twist but now with my Lord's name etched into my fist to gain revenge on my enemies-hit list
My left eye, my hole, my scarey demon, my pain, amanda's naamah taken away by the Lord's divine mercy, now restored light, secure inside my heart burning me.
Such a heavy weight made as light as air, yolk easy- no illusional despair.
On your knees, clasp your hands, speak and the Lord's there.
How wonderful our majesty is by the blood He had shed and by that same blood, will we gain a chance by no longer living with the dead.
I pray Jesus' name on all our forehead's and play the harp angels blow the horn against the beast-red
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem