Ignorance is bliss, so am insistently told.
The lack of knowledge, a heaven to behold.
They say what you don’t know, can’t kill you,
And yes, they were right, those considered few.
They sit on the pew, on a day on a Sunday.
They sing praises, but vomit all on Monday.
From a godly figure, to a full devil’s son,
Sharpening their claws, assembled as one.
Like a spider in a hunt, they weave a web.
To capture the meek, ensnare all in a cobweb.
They bite but silently blow, to ease the blows,
Disguise as tough love, yet ready to dispose.
They offer pellets, and watch with wonder.
Much to their amusement, the people under.
Those who are blind, ignorant of the truth,
On the reckoning day, they flock to the booth.