Has come the beast, to show its worst,

With an un-filling hunger, to devour.

What drink shall quench such deadly thirst?

For your blood has not satisfied their power.

Does it aim to give you distress?

Nay, hearts with God have no fear,

And the patient know, the beast shall progress,

To a certain defeat, which will be near.

Has worn the beast, a garb of an angel

Made from rhetoric and sown with true lies,

Cowards praise the clear dress as they tremble

For selfish fear of loss of their own lives.

What use is life that is possessed by fear?

Life which lives in ease while hearing your screams,

Is the world deaf or do they choose not to hear

Of the massacre, the killing, the diminishing dreams?

A flower does not thrive in winter

Nor is Fate bound in time,

Clouds do not block forever

Rays of sustenance, our glimmering shine.

With words does truth grow in size;

A message to thee, when all else fails:

Surely the sun sets before its rise,

And as darkness appears, light prevails.

–Sheamonspeare