In the dark and dismal glow,

of a cavern deep below,

perched a creature scarred and frail,

and to me bestows a tale.

Distant dismal preaching drones,

Echo off the walls of stone,

Yet what I hear is an account,

With evil content I cant surmount.

If what you crave is long lost lore,

Of people who exist no more,

Then I shall state reluctantly,

What the creature said to me.

“Precariously placed near heavens doors,

sat a building who few explores,

age unknown and hist’ry lost,

towers loom and gleam from frost.

Taller than the atmoshphere,

and darker than your deepest fear,

the building sways when gusts impact,

its frail old walls, weak and cracked.

Inhabiting this place so dark and frail,

was a man who’s face was deathly pale,

Of three large floors the man used one,

The furthest from the searing sun.

In the basement three items sat,

One of these, a dying rat,

The second was a wooden chair,

surrounded by walls wet and bare.

The third has most importance here,

and to its rules you must adhere,

a bottomless boundless well where dwell,

Lucifer and the minions of hell.

When the dead reach heavens gate,

The lord examines and carefully rates,

the depth of envy lust and greed,

and other sins which one should heed.

Twas here my heart began to chill,

the creature croaked, “Your blood will spill,

For you have sinned your whole life through,

And now your sins, will live with you.”