My enemies take my silence as though
I'm slow, weak or stupid as I plot.
A friend I won't call out as they might betray me!
Braggerts claim to have what other's don't,
As no one has what they may have and silent be.
Money so they think, got them to where they are
Is sometimes true and then for some,
The man will come and Yea I mean it's you.
In the shadowed corner I may out stretched stand,
While on her knees and for some I'm sure it's he.
The quickness of the tongue brings them all down
To their knees.
Said he of small of hand and he whom rockets ride.
A thief he calls them all but men of faith whom thinks
There is,
When if there was a man like him like you
He would be good.
He who lies and smiles a lot as tears roll down
Your face,
Hammering a dream you had but sleep to dream
No more a thief he is.
God loves them as they are for all their faults yet half
Wish the other's dead,
Do not love the rest because their good when good is
Not enough to bring him down!
Copyright © James McLain | Year Posted 2017
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem