I travel on a road,
made rough with good intentions,
soon I feel the heat,
burning my hair, scorching my feet.
I come across a river,
A river labeled Styx.
On a hook there is a horn I bring it to my lips,
The cold bone numbs my limbs.
A note twisted with evil, sounds across the horizon.
Mist swirls higher, higher, shrouding my sight.
A tall man in battered robes answers my call,
Polling near the bank he lifts his hand palm up.
I search my torn pockets finding to my surprise,
two silver coins, the size of my eyes.
I give them to the man and they disappear.
I step on the ferry and he polls me across.
As the pain and misery reach me we reach the bank.
A bank covered in slime of centuries.
There they stood tall, twisted, alive with evil.
God! How they stood mocking me! But Even worse was the sign!
And I wish! Oh how I wish,
I had lived with faith!
But now I stood there it is too late,
So said the inscription before the gate
. A sign, standing forever there, As I read it striking fear;
"Abandon Hope All Ye Who Enter Here!"
