They walk in the mask of saints,
So innocent with hearts full of evil,
Their looks are polished with false paints,
Designed by the devil.
They claim their seeds are true,
Presenting lies as proofs,
They cover the truth with clues,
Labeled as pastors but crooks.
They are found all around,
Directing sheep's into sins to stray,
On their minds money pound,
Using the church as a make way.
Their work grow and show on them like seeds and feathers,
With it everywhere they sow and fly,
But their seeds wont grow,
Fake pastors I live you to the sky.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very true brother. Keep it up