Whispers of Death
Whispers of death have me aghast,
hope defiled on the steps of the brave,
symbols of emotionalism right to the last,
footprints of sorrow to the grave.
Demons guard the gates of hell,
chains of disgust seemingly hollow,
souls of the lost infinitely dwell,
cries of the vanquished easy to swallow.
Fire and brimstone lay at your feet,
screams of the damned echo with pain,
flesh devoured by incessant heat,
laughter of the ridiculous drives you insane.
Unspeakable torture rips at the eyes,
caves of blackness swallows you whole,
while smiles of indifference stifle your cries,
and the demon of the deep wrestles your soul.
Kinship and fellowship fall away,
strangers in death cast aside,
your on your own with nothing to say,
tears of forgiveness with nowhere to hide.
Nightmares are temporary with eyes of silt,
you wake in the morning with sweat on your head,
its only your pride that grapples with guilt,
while the cold embrace of fear fills you with dread.
Life is a springboard filled with hope,
laughter and joy shared by the chosen,
death is a memory that swings on a rope,
lips twisted in fright tongue swollen and frozen.