The River of Darkness

Death has washed over me,

My face as cold as the most frigid winters day,

My heart a frozen lump in my chest,

Still I try.

The most beautiful sunset cannot shake me,

The moonless nights dare not face me,

My spirit but a wondering husk,

My hope a distant shred of its former self,

How long can one be lost?

A beaten man once so proud,

A shroud, a jest, fallen from grace is he,

Patiently waiting for his moment,

Rest, rest now, for soon comes more torment,

The river Styx, his face of sorrow,

Tests, not now but in the 'morrow,

What will it take to break him?

Reviews

[John the Baptist]

Not your basic upper, this one. The speaker sounds like a hungry ghost, a lost soul wandering aimlessly in post death darkness. This is a version of hell that in its way is more forbidding than the lake of fire.