Untitled, Again

Fiery murmurings, skulls and bones,
darkly moving shadowy groans
Pits of bondage
Howls of pain
haunting sorrows
Gnawing shame
Hope is gone
All is lost
What a pity
What a cost
To cast aside the grace
That would’ve saved you
From this place

by Brenda Finch

Comments (2)

I agree with the hound
It's actually not as bad as you think. Everyone thinks it's like something out of Hieronymus Bosch, but it's not. It's gotten a bad rap. And guess what? The pitchfork is just for show.