The Rivers of Doom ( Archived) (2)

A dreaming river, lying in a bed,
Seven bridges span the River Styx,
In Dis, Dante’s city of the dead.
A fiery wall of flame keeps the
Souls of all the wicked sinners
From escaping back to Earth.
Outside these flaming walls,
In Purgatory countless beings
Are awaiting their rebirth.

Barbs and talons rending flesh,
Flaming pits, the damned consigned.
Endless torture is high demon sport,
Imps and succubi joyfully cavort
On the broken backs of greedy souls
Who count an endless stack of coins,
Doomed to forever count a fortune they
Can never spend again, this wage of sin
These tortured souls, in misery are paid in.

And lest we count the River Lethe as less,
We must now from the River Styx digress.
For we shant be accused of lame forgetting
The river of forgetfulness, we redress this sin
And start right in, on souls who chose oblivion.
One drop of water from the Lethe will bring
An absence of memory, and thus everything
That makes a soul more than a faint specter,
In a haunted movie with Satan it’s director.

Bemoaning a fate they cannot recollect
You drank the water, what did you expect?
The boatman warned you but you didn’t heed,
Too great you suffer the past you tried to flee.
And now the river water has taken everything
Both good and bad, and you’d like to be sad,
But you can’t remember how to be unhappy,
You can’t remember anything but Hades,
The walls of Dis glowing in perpetual hate,
But you don’t care, you’ve nothing to compare
To this hellish land that is now all that you know.