No Time For Poetry

No time for elegant poetry.
Precious Time is running out.
Justice, this cannot be.
Suffering! You have us rout.

Lord please tell me why.
No, I demand to know.
On his death bed he lay,
longing to go.

A man CHOOSES death.
How much you punish him!
If you CANNOT save him
then put to ease his misery.

But if you dare quote his sin,
then my poem shall burn you within.

about.me/zardy

Chief Editor at about.me/tsoimagazine

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