Ezhno, Lord of the Past

Ezhno

The god of time 

The lord of the past

Deity of consequence

Those who cling and cry 

Onto their sins and regrets

Easily forget the lord 

That sleeps in their bed

Their legs move, 

Yet they stumble and fall

Escape from this beast

Is futile among all

The chase itself is a race against time

The slow and the weak fall behind

Those who lost will never arise

To this beast of time

He creeps and waits in the darkness below

The depths of your mind is something he beholds

Time is a weapon,

One he always holds

But you,

you frail, frail, little thing,

you'll be gone in a glimpse.

Simple as a mouse with a limp

In his clawed hand he holds the divinities above

By this act alone they hold no love

Left lonesome and alone he waits in the dark

That is until it's time to make his mark

Forget is impossible

Your sluggish mind may not recall his name

Nor can you recognize this sick cruel game

Just you wait and see and you’ll be lit up in flames