Editor's ChoiceMusingsSad Poems

Lovely Hell

On demons horizon
the flame of hell burns,
calling up on souls
that yearn for the streets of Valhalla.
To breeze into hell
back and forth
till the chambers of torture swell.
In the city where Cain dwell
and the mighty fell.
And the merchants of pain do sell
the spices of hell.
In Magog’s castle, lies the retribution cell,
a cubicle dark as hell.
And the Prince of Persia do tell
his servants not to yell
to the souls found in hell.
And like a cherry spell
they cherish their stay in hell.
Of sweet bitter experience,
souls clamor for existence
and the portal of hell in silence
at the presence of her jubilant possessors.
Hell, sweet hell!
Grant thy own a lovely hell.

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