Eternally running;
From Satan’s raid.
Fear overwhelms,
Under the demon’s blade.
Ensnared by the void,
In overwhelming shade;
The crumbled ground,
Gone is all I made.
My soul cries out;
As my heart; it bayed.
In blackened world,
The colors fade.
Glorious shield;
From the wicked raid.
Fear-induced trembling.
Shivering death’s blade.
Freed from the void,
Rest from the shade.
All I am given,
All is that He made.
My soul rejoices
My debt, is paid.
Through his glory,
My sin has fade
(Also if you wish to give me some feedback on it, id appreciate it.)
2007-09-19
02:54:23
·
12 answers
·
asked by
College Guy
1
in
Poetry