Wast thou my only one? My single savior?
My only child and sole most favor,
That blessed our blood with innocent eyes,
And welled our hopes with favorable lies.
Righteous lies that none may doubt,
Of which brought joy and were much about,
Living days, though pirated now,
Achieving intellect and I'd say how,
Thee did offer amusing answers,
By prophetic images, angelic dancers.
But you were taken in frightful manner,
By God waving his tyranic banner.
He built me up and gave me laughter,
Through your joys and later after,
Ript violently from my helpless hands,
Passing through the untimely sands.
He is a monster! A wretched king of pain,
While all his adorers to me have sain,
"There is a time for death, and for life."
As if these actions weren't built on strife.
Strife unjustified by all who note,
What I've recorded here by wrote.
Be off with you I need you not,
I pray your church in a grave may rot.
I need not your son, he was yours,
Otherwise, blood be spilt by this lore.
By Evan Gunn Wilson
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