OR: On the Moderno
As I enter the heart of my state,
I wonder.
As I see the protesters irate,
I ponder.
Seeing the misordered minds
And deals with the Devil
I lose hope as each day finds
Less people whose lives are level.
Yet into the stream, some hope will merge,
And I pray.
For when from that valley I emerge
I will say:
The Lᴏʀᴅ's Blessing theirs is not,
And like their neon gods
The evil things shall all rot;
But our hope is in the One true God.
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