MR. PREACHER YOU LIED.
You told me I will become a billionaire if I pay my tithes,
I believed in your ‘miracle money prophecy’ and I dropped my school fee in your pocket,
You said if my Amen is louder than that of my neighbor my mom won’t kick the bucket,
But you lied,
And she died.
When will the seeds I have been sowing in the lord’s vineyard sprout and bear fruits?
How long will I wait for the coming of Christ?
How long will I dine with crisis?
The last time I checked the witches of my father’s house are still alive – oppressing me,
You never told me firewood works faster than Holy Ghost fire?
Mr. Preacher I thought you were Selina tested?
Why are you bleeding?
Why are you scared of death if you are sure of your mansion in heaven?
Rest in peace Mr. Preacher,
My regards to my mother,
Tell her you made me a murderer.
Dan Chuks.
