The meek and not the strong.

[KA1-EG13]

So here is a poem i made in one day. There are some things in it that I would like to add and subtract, but when I showed it to some people at school they liked it. I hope y'all like it too.

Cry like a woman, fight like a man, sing as the child who has found hope in the land.

The rejected stranger suffurs many leers, and the lonely widow sheds countless tears, as the orphan wanders, hides, and fears becuase his now dead father drank too many beers.

Is there any hope at all?

Are we just left here alone defending our lives that are without cause, though we are stuck in death's jaws, trying to claw our way out of this stink hole as we fall and fall?

But hark! I hear the arch-angel sing, "Jesus has said life don't have to be raw. All you have to do is humble yourselves and call..."

So thier knees, they hit the floor and they say, "Jesus you are the Lord."

Now the stranger has found his redeemer, and no longer fears the accuser, and the widow has a comforter that will niether leave or forsake her, as the orphan has found a heavenly father that makes him walk a little taller.

And though the mighty and "enlightened" afar off call thier new found faith a crutch, they are very very wrong. For it is the poor in spirit, the ones who thirst and hunger for justice, and the meek that inherit the earth and not the strong.