Tartarus

Beneath the fires of an unwavering hell
Below the damned an screaming
A man sits on a throne of brimstone and bones.
He is hardly the man one might expect to sit on the throne of death.
In fact, he is but a boy.
A handsome boy with black hair and black eyes that make one think of the depths of Tartarus.
He has a cruel smile with perfect teeth, and skin of ivory.
Do not be fooled by the king of deceit, for he lures the innocent in and makes them lose themselves in his ways.
He is no god. No demon. He is not even a man.
Just a boy.
And all who look upon him are doomed to fall in love.
The prince of charm and the king of all lies.
But look closer. Deep in his eyes.
Like a second layer upon them.
His eyes are red.
His skin is grey.
His hair is white.
He looks more like a rat than a man.
He is tired of the same tricks.
And wishes he could rest.

But alas, poor king, he is doomed to immortality.
He is stuck to the throne.
He wishes for the taste of blood to satisfy his thirst before he lies down for an internal sleep.
But the curse upon him shall linger into eternity,
And he will outlive all that is good or bad.
He will outlive fire and water and earth itself.
And all for a fruit from a tree.