Preacher

I gave you enough clues
Murdering
Raping
Pillaging
Looting nations
My dear mortals
You tremble and cringe
Wary of my wrath
Yet you see me as kindly
How nice of me
Letting my son be slaughtered
Then raising him
Yet you still remain blind
Answer me this
Who controls an army of the dead?
Who can assume a pleasing shape?
Hmmmm?

© 2005, Mosquitobyte