Tears Of The Saints (Bop) Poem by Jeffrey Adegor

Heaven cries, the people are crippled
on whom it relies, crippled of the mind
eyes opened but blind, to the necessary
evil plaguing our hearts, pulling us apart
from the love shared from above, making us
teach corruption instead of salvation


Sundays has become boring, I get tired
of pretending to be listening to all those
false teachings and preachings and doctrines
that I wonder where they come from,
was it not the same bible I read this morn'
so where did you get that interpretation from
I kindly ask you dear one.
And they tell me everyone's got a different understanding


I tried but they pushed me aside
I corrected them, but I became a problem
So I just chill every Sunday morning
Realizing this problem is without solving
And I leave them all to God
When we die, we'll be judged based on our records