With meekness that commands respect.
Or so I thought…
He preaches so fervently
He commands demons and they flee
Or so I thought…
He pronounces and prophesies
He decrees and declares.
Or so I thought…
He throws his handkerchief
To the spiritually starved congregation
They squabble and struggle to grab it,
For it carries a spiritual meal
Or so I thought…
But within that crucifix clad being
Is a man so sly and slimy
His voice a soothing taste of bile
Clothed in a spiritual suit of deceit
Preying upon innocent sisters
Maybe not so innocent
Or so I thought…
Financial aids and cash droppings,
Night visits and day calls.
And on Sundays he appears before them
With no shame of being a sham
But he is a pastor,
Or so I thought…
Written by: Kwin Chi
Edited by: Kukogho Iruesiri Samson
