Author Langston Hughes You sicken me with lies, With truthful lies. And with your pious faces. And your wide, out-stretched, mock-welcome, Christian hands. While underneath Is dirt and ugliness, And rottening hearts, And wild hyenas howling In your soul's waste lands. Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 Average: 5 (2 votes) Rate Log in or register to post comments