My, how unlovely the unloved are.
My, how short their memories last.
Their cowardly minds black like tar,
With mirrored distortions of their past.

Some mirrored images of their selves,
Slither in the dark hallways of their mind.
They bind themselves with chains of lust.
To the ugliest person that they could find.

They do hate what they can never be.
That true love they will never ever find.
The curse God's light, it burns their soul.
As scary demons roar from their mind.

How sad to think that when Jesus comes.
With all His lovely angelic beings of light.
When rapture will spread across the world.
He will light up even the darkest midnight.

The wheat will float up on an angel's breath.
To that golden tabernacle high in the sky.
There they will find Jesus Christ is king.
All the tares are sadly left behind to cry.
For sadly  they did not learn a thing.