Sentenced To The Grave Poem by Nnaji Hyacinth sopuluchukwu

A home desolated to there i rot
My innards churned, by worms are cut
Of the lazy is it, as by hunger are whipped
To the earth their vigour are brought

By pierce of gut is blade stained
To the wicked is gold of godly gained
Ceaseless toil under sun lost to treachery
The butchers of the righteous shall wail by cemetery
As to the saint is to martyrdom attained

But of a truth, not all are man's invent
For many departure is creator's intent
At old can one behold street of dormant treasure
And farewell of the young breed not pleasure
But still, in all these to the earth are all sent