Could we not tell
If earth was really not hell,
And sinners are sent here to languish
To fight and suffer in anguish,
This is where we all are damned
Everyone of us here are crammed,
To me there is no doubt;
I want out.
We tend to ignore God
Many think of him and Christ as a fraud,
We are happy when others are in pain;
We have become Cain.
To walk a strait line to heaven we don't care
We don't worry about the fare,
If that line to our destiny was straiten
It would lead to Satan.
Children of course are born
So to them we can mourn,
And secretly we hate each other
We have one religion killing another.
Everywhere there is someone crying
And someone cheating and stealing and lying,
Murderers are always for hire;
Hell doesn't have to be only fire.
Randy L. McClave
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem