The Fourth Layer of Hell

By:

A desert, desolation
Greets your every sight;
A barren congregation,
Neither day nor night.

The horizon out there is blank,
Surround you only rock;
As lifeless as a wooden plank,
But for the broken clock.

"Two minutes to midnight"
It speaks in solemn pose;
In no way a pretty sight
Like that of a black rose.

Lying still above the gates,
Like a grinning clown;
Gazes without changing dates,
Wearing a pale crown.

The gates themselves, a pair of rust,
Screeching for your soul;
Waiting for the break of trust
And the final toll.

You feel compelled to go right through,
Though all you feel is cold.
You're dreaming, but it all seems true,
Your humanity lies sold.

And darkness fills your eyes and tongue,
And chokes you suddenly;
Like water driving through your lung,
It chills you terribly.

And all you knew to be so dear,
You can't seem to remember;
And thoughts of G-d just disappear,
Fill your mind with anger.

"How did I come to be here?"
You ask yourself alone.
Your soul is bleeding full of tear,
You hear naught but a groan.

No one here to answer you,
The pain is left untold.
You're searching for a string of blue,
But find nothing, just mold.

You close your eyes and hope to die,
This misery to stop;
But nothing happens, you can sigh,
You worth not a drop.

And then when you open your eyes
And see it's not a dream,
Mind goes blank with cruel cries
And all you do is scream.

Visions of unholy things
In the darkness grin and dwell.
A bloody smile says: "Greetings,
To the Fourth Layer of Hell!"