Mercy came knocking once, a pale wanderer draped in dawn, with weary eyes and gentle hands, carrying no sword, only the burden of understanding. But the wicked knew not her face. Their hearts were citadels of stone, where compassion died unnamed and every wound became a weapon. They barred the gates. For mercy is a stranger in the hearts of the wicked. She walks their halls unseen, a ghost among shadows, whispering of forgiveness to ears that worship vengeance. They drink from poisoned wells and call bitterness wisdom. They sharpen grief into blades and wear cruelty like a crown. Where mercy offers a bridge, they build a wall. Where mercy kneels, they strike. And so she leaves quietly, taking her light with her, while darkness settles deeper into chambers already cold. The wicked do not fear mercy, they fear what mercy reveals: that beneath their iron masks, beneath their kingdoms of pride, beneath the ruins they call strength, there lives a trembling truth they dare not face. For merc...
Indeed, life is a mystery untold,
I was once a happy soul,
Walking freely in a dream-made world,
My laughter light, my heart made whole.
Then came a tornado dressed in calm,
With velvet words and gentle tone,
Preaching love like a church-bound psalm,
Quoting verses not his own.
He spoke in faith, he spoke in fire,
As pastors do before the choir,
Each promise lifted me up higher,
Each vow wrapped sweetly around desire.
I believed the prayers he learned to say,
Mistook his voice for something true,
Until his tongue tore faith away
And left my heart in shattered view.
What a devil incarnate walking in this land,
Wearing grace like a borrowed skin,
Breaking souls with a lover’s song,
Calling a betrayal “love” and calling a sin “amen.”
Now I stand where ruins lie,
Wiser beneath a broken sky
For storms that preach and angels lie
Are the cruelest truths life lets pass by_
© 2026 Gloria Penelope
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