A cry for helpA Poem by discipleThe preacher.I heard it whisper in three’s; In time like this, don’t worry, son, don’t. The burden would not last forever, Your cup would be full to brim again, even more than ever It’s fate, keep your faith! The science of the spoken word, take heart, don’t worry, son don’t
Then, in time like this, when the winner becomes the loser, when the victor becomes the victim, where the innocent, is the guilty, and the potent turns the impotent. Say to yourself,’ all is well’ never withdraw from trying, just move closer…
The road to hell is usually paved with good intentions… It is by discipline, self motivation, caution and patience, Call it extreme patience escorted by guided conscience. It is a tiny path, to progress, better strip yourself from naked emotions.
Kind Sir. But what of time like this, where the preacher is the sinner, where the adviser need be advised, and the same solution is the sole cause of the mitigated problem? Where do we turn, who do we blame or hold firm? Shall we flee for our lives, or what method should be devised? © 2015 discipleAuthor's Note
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2 Reviews Added on February 10, 2015 Last Updated on February 10, 2015 Author
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