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Styx

Nightfall has spilt its ink
staining the landscape with its morbid hue.

The moon stares and bleaches
the oily water with thousands of winks.

A mountains silhouette
carved the abysmal blue

of the nighttime horizon…
the purgatory of our sins.

The power of Gods eye
thrusts through the darkness

and the spotlight of his white iris
pierces the blackened hue that is our sins.

Satan resides deep in the oily depths
where he and his plague of followers drown in sin.

The lords light shall be visible here,
though not so brilliantly,
as Styx is dyed in a pitch tinge.

Far above the freezing, muddy floor of Styx,
the dampened air of purgatory clouded in mist;

illuminated
by our Fathers starry eye.
Written by gothicsurrealism (Daniel Long)
Published
Author's Note
A poem about crossing over into hell.
My poetry/short story website: gothicsurrealism.com
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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