Poetry

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Hell...a deathly place, shaped
Like pharaoh's pyramid, it is a lasting
Symbol of all worldly lusts and passions.
Imprisoned within its walls of hate
Are the tormented and lost of mankind.

Excuses are forever blistered upon parched
Swollen lips. Agonized screams pierce
The air and remorseful voices plead, too
Late, for one more chance. Perched
On the pinnacle like a statue still and silent,

Leers the Prince of Darkness. In anticipation
He waits in vain for the praise that
Will never come. He waits. He watches, chest
Swelled with pride. In the midst of the
Flame and falling brimstone Lucifer

Proudly sneers, "I will have the praise.
I will have the glory. I will! I will!"
His hollow words reverberate around the pit.
Reeking with the stench of sin and sulfur,
The undaunted prince once again looks down

Upon the last frontier of his kingdom, and
A sinister grin slithers across his face.
"The praise will come," he hisses. "Oh yes,
It will come. There's plenty of time...

...there's eternity."

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