NIGHTMARE

In my nightmare,

I saw strong souls weeping and despair,

Some are lost into dark and setaceous asylum,

And hope of death treats some with honorable barbarism.

Some are befooled by Pope of doom,

And victims are enduring sting in their room.

Yet no Soul dare draw his weapon,

Every man hides in scary dungeon.

Some have become mope,

They're gifted to spread dreadful and false hope.

In extension of hell fire, fate of eternity is decided,

And sorrowful souls are after anointing of devil's shepherd.

In my nightmare,

there's a way which glitters with gold and clear,

But the end thereof leads to grave.

I saw some purples digging pit of waste,

While church rats grow skinner and debased.

The wretched are many,

With heavy burden, they move without a penny,

Depression hovering around them like a dove,

they wish they haven't come from above.

I was touched by the picture of world

in my nightmare, how could a world made from words,

Turns to region of hell to those who are created in divine's image?

How could journey to Greenland becomes death's pilgrimage?

With passionate agony, I picked my sword,

Vessel of blood turn to words

On my white, bringing words of 

encouragement and anicteric love.

As it drops on their heart,

weak souls began to smile,

And their spirit is lifted high.

Happiness filled the earth

And my soul is refreshed like

Plant planted by its homelike.