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The Cherub's Ghoul

365 Days of Creativity

day seventy eight

The Cherub's Ghoul

From lands of lost
a cherub came
he thumbed a harp
and sweetly sang

skin like cream
and wings like dove
with hands too small
for common glove

and round his neck
he wore a bag
of leather tough
for such a babe

whence tender song
was softly sung
he daintily
made bag unslung

with kindest glow
he drew the string
angelic smile
unleashed the Thing

a flash of blue
like fire's scorch
entrapt in dark
the only torch

these flames of black
and indigo
from under hood
of ink, did glow

these eyes which saw
more than I said
and mouth which ate
more than I fed

a gaping maw
like flesh torn wide
he took my fear
to be his bride

he stood, a pit
of lustless power
at once both hole
and tallest tower

not that the wraith
exuded cold
but all source of heat
he did enfold

with vocal rattle
stolen from
a thousand men
sisters and sons

he spoke two words
that "Fear's unfair"
while Cherub laughed
and lounged on air

they both drank deep
my skin and soul
but 'fore I died
they let me go

and cut from thought
this awful thread.


But ho! What man
waits on my bed?

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