The Last Days Poem by Saint Cynosure

Post up all men,
for the last days are near.
Has the warnings from prophets,
are finally here.

Their words of fires,
quakings in place,
tears flowing like rivers form each mothers face.

Pestilence taking whole cities no grace,
for the payments for sin that cant be erased.

Terrors and tremors and war evermore,
with no way to prepare us for what lies in store.

Masses of armies marching for death,
and youll swim in blood rivers if you are but left.

Skin that will burn form the chemical air,
and each time they did warn us but we never cared.

Bellies of hunger no food to be shared,
no water in nothing,
you dream it but there.

Murder and lying and theiverous hate,
and all wish for better,
but for all its too late.

The warnings from prophets are finally near,
post up all men for the last days are here...