E_T_Poetry&Writes ZW

I have decided to keep a mystery about me,
Yeah, I am mysteriously open.
I can tell you everything about me,
But not enough for you to know everything;
Because they been doing things,
That make you wonder
Oh what a people!

I am talking about men of the cloth;
Who are being caught unclothed,
Who preach righteousness by faith
While clothed by self righteousness
In their dry cleaned suits, funded by wet sins
Busy burying church crimes under the pulpit.

The elite growing fat, from the poverty of their people,
Policemen trained to fight crimes;
Getting promotions by breaking the law,
Soldiers recruited to serve and protect;
Butchering citizens while taking the knee.

Let me not point fingers,
But I have seen vegans campaigning against animal brutality
Then go home and brutalise their wives.
Children afraid of their own fathers
As if they are terrorists;
They would rather stay in the streets
Than enjoy the comfort of their homes.

What a people!
The one who is holding anti smoking campaigns,
Is adding fuel to the body of a burning human,
Governments bound to protect their fat policies,
Even if it means degrading a human;
Busy depriving people of their rights,
Because they can’t live without their priviledges.

The rot goes beyond the core,
The rot has corrupted the seeds of the seed;
They are still carrying cameras to feed the hungry,
And roadshows to heal the sick;
Burning gallons of fuel
So they can give you a pint of cooking oil,
Then they publicise their deeds to the hungry media
And they are claimed to have done better than Jesus.

Men choosing their kids over their wives;
Bending over to bed 2 year olds,
Sweating over the flesh of their own sweat,
Drawing the blood of their own blood.
Mysterious men going on a rampage mysteriously killing vulnerable women,
And woman aborting babies like they are a dropping a duce.
Don’t get me started on those sacrificing others for money;
Relatives wiped away because one person wanted to bowla.

They can’t even pay child support;
Because they are busy supporting European football,
In the streets toyi toying for a new butcher,
Yes, the sheep say they want a better butcher
So that they die with a little dignity.

If it means staying in a cocoon,
In order to remain human,
Then I would rather not be a butterfly.
Yeah, I know you say I am beautiful
But every blooming flower is at its beautifulest peak,
Just before it withers;
And I aint no butterfly,
So let me stay in this cocoon,
Lest I come out more rotten than they.