The next voice that you hear
It will not be mine,
It will be that of the Devine;
He will be whispering in your ear
And I will not be anywhere near.
Before you make your very next move
Think not of me,
But, instead look up and think of he;
Will what you do improve
And while looking down would he approve.
Like a parent talking unto their child
I just wanted to teach,
God is the one that will preach;
But, then I was profiled
And like trash I was then exiled.
I am done not being listened to
And walked on like sod,
Now, you better listen to God;
He will tell you what you should do
Now it's all up to you.
Randy L. McClave
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem