The Descent Poem by Sara Dickson

The Descent

Descending rapidly down the slick tunnel,
The icy catacomb where souls lay at rest,
A pitch black chasm teeming with iniquity,
The rapacious fissure absent of warmth,
And a menacing orifice just waiting to hear the crack of my bones on the floor.

Such a corrupted, defunct void that I'm driven to a dark aberration,
The fumes of rot waft upward like the breath of a monster,
A jagged wall tears at my skin and flesh like the cruel beak of a vulture
While biting cold threatens to devour me,
And still can be heard are the echoing screams of the dead.

The agony of it all tortures me,
Blood gushes from my every pore,
No longer is there skin on my body,
And my heart pounds like a hammer,
Wracking my remains with every painstaking beat.

My feeble fingers grasp at the rock,
Yet I can do nothing as I am slowly obliterated,
Dragged down to the depths of the Inferno,
Wishing desperately that I had a second chance,
To seek out the light, instead of the dark.

Saturday, November 23, 2013
Topic(s) of this poem: death
Richard Blay 09 April 2014

indeed we all deserve second chance but when the time comes there is nothing we can do. good work

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