Horrible screams, beyond the grave,
To this world, he was a slave,
Taking to bed, his whole life,
Now living in permanent strife.

If he only had listened,
To God’s position,
And to the preacher’s call,
He wouldn’t have had this fiery fall.

Conversations, playing in his head
About what happens when the body is dead,
And to where the lost soul goes,
Apart from heaven, now forever woes.

He wishes he could reach out,
To those in doubt and drought,
Who do not have the Living Water,
And save them from the devil’s slaughter.

Published by Jenn Till Lee Copyrighted, all rights reserved.

Writing poems as an outlet for healing. My hope is in Christ

2 thoughts on “Regret

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