Without Warning

Maligned is their benevolence; contrary to the point of trite. 

Their tongues wag and damn the darkness to only curse the light.

Sadness is their riddle; joy but a misnomer lent to shame.

Folly is their reproach as for wisdom to them never came.

Headless they march to the beat of broken dreams.

Gangly are they and full of dying men’s screams.

So kind they appear; so gentle in forgiving eyes.

Yet beneath the surface dwells a soul filled with lies.

Mere shells are they, trust and purity a delusion in their mind.

They have always been and will forever be until the end of time.

Therefore be guarded in these most vicious days.

Regard only to thyself unto He who in self sacrifice your debt paid.

J. Allen Wilson © 3/2008