Pharisees

In the guise of righteousness, they masquerade, With hearts blacker than the night's darkest shade, They preach with forked tongues, and lips that deceive, While their souls writhe in the darkness, they cannot leave Charlatans, blasphemers, peddlers of heresy, They sow discord, and reap the whirlwind's frenzy, Their words, a cacophony of deceit, and guile, A symphony of hypocrisy, that echoes, all the while No love resides within their breasts, only stone, Their hearts, a vacuum, devoid of empathy's tone, They pretend, with pious faces, and hands clasped tight, But their actions betray their words, like a thief, in the night Misleading the flock, with verses, cherry-picked, and torn, From the context of love, and compassion, that the Bible has sworn, They manipulate, with clever words, and twisted intent, Leaving destruction, and despair, in the wake, of their bent Their selfishness, a cancer, that consumes, and destroys, Leaving no room, for the love, that the Gospel employs, They are the wolves, in sheep's clothing, that the scriptures warn, Deceivers, who deceive, even themselves, with their own, self-righteous scorn But still, they preach, with voices, loud, and clear.