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When sudden disaster brings death, The Lord makes fun of the despair; As it may cause a rapid breath, Since trials seem to be unfair. The earth is handed to evil, Covering the faces who judge; As the prince becomes the devil, Who continues to hold a grudge. My days go by much more quickly, They seem to merely speed away; But they seem to be more sickly, As I feel this body decay. I do not see anything good, Everything became sour; Nothing seems to be like it should, While living through each hour. An eagle swoops down on its prey, As the creature attempts to run; But not likely to get away, Since the pursuance has begun. I will forget my complaining, As I alter my expression; Knowing what I am attaining, Becoming not an obsession. I dread so much as I suffer, Because I have been found guilty; But I look to God to buffer, Since I lost my ability. Why should I keep working so hard? When I see negative results; It feels as if my life is marred, Because I am getting insults. Someone like me cannot answer, What the Lord desires to hear; My body feels like a cancer, That has been feeding on my fear. No mediator but a judge, If He would not terrify me; An umpire without a grudge, I would speak if I were fear free. Copyright © 2016 Richard Newton Sherrer Vote for this poem
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