The ultimate judgement... he'll wish he was still alive
To be spit upon among the corpses of men
To be thrown where evil does not die
Executed by fire, only to burn again and again.
He won't recognize carcasses around that are his enemies
His pending ambush unknown to his wicked heart
Out from the burning fires, they'll come by the many
Tearing and pulling limb by limb his body apart.
Burning in the lake of fire, he'll be in utter darkness
Gnashing his teeth in pain, regret, and great sorrow
The demons torment him while he begs for them to have mercy
They violate every part of him and will not let him go.
Screams and wails of others that are tormented
And his torment alone just fires his thirst
Vile creatures walk and slither on him and the ground
Eternal life in the Hell's furnace could not be worse.
Cast down to Hell, he truly knows fear, every moment he's slain
Gruesome deeds and horrors upon him and him to witness
These emotions he can't rid of; utter despair, anguish, and pain
He can't run or hide from his eternity, no matter how he may wish.
All rights reserved, © Molly Densmore. Copying without permission for non-personal use is forbidden.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Yeow. Fiery stuff. Reminds me in passing of the works of Hieronymous Bosch as interpreted by Valor Kand and Christian Death. Gripping.