Grim Cherubim

Grim Cherubim

A Poem by The Creation

An hourglass that’s absent sand,

Idle games for a hopeless man,

Hell-bound and naïve,

Nothing left for him to believe,

Nature decays around,

Only because his presence abounds,

Wrists bleeding,

Slowly losing feeling,

Is this the answer to your life?

Your way of ending obscurity,

If so then I feel no pity,

Nothing less, Nothing more,

Nothing God would ever ignore,

Morning is nigh,

Lacking a sun rising high,

Rot in your bleak epiphany,

And fade forever from their memory,

Upon your gravestone I’ll write,

Here lies a man who lost his light,

May your soul plea forgiveness from,

The hands of the sentinels of death,

Cower under the wings,

Of the Grim Cherubim.

© 2013 The Creation

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Added on May 13, 2013
Last Updated on May 13, 2013


The Creation
The Creation

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