We looked into the devils eyes

soft and melting coal

we saw the fire, heard the lies

that demon spoke and told.

We looked below toward Gates of Sin

with torchlight as our guide

and heard the wailing confessions begin

as we descended at the devils side.

The labyrinth of fog made from tears

evaporated in the heat over the years

tasted of brine and aged regret

a flavor I’ll now never forget.

We stepped into Styx, that river gray

the churns and broils with froth

and felt those waves of sorrow sway

and caress us with a touch so soft

like a lover, come to bed too late

regretting a rendezvous of fate

touching with reverence bared skin

where all confessions do begin.

And the devil drew us deeper yet,

and amidst the sighs and screams

we found ourselves in the plutonian net

that fills the gaps of dreams.

So was it we willingly fell from grace

from that shining, golden place,

and descended into vortexian Hell

to hear the secrets the dead can tell.

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