Chaos reigns supreme as the river of time flows by,
and by its banks blooms the flower of night,
jet black petals and red hue for a stem , besmeared with thorns of the abhorrent horrors,
of the fallacious souls that lie inside the gates below,
the gates of hell, rustic and old, now appears in full vigor.
And on it are inscribed 7 rings of fire and 7 of ice,
merged together to form one big scythe,
of the 7 hells that I purview, chaos reigns supreme in every view.
Souls of men great and small perish by the minute,
as the reaper’s scythe rummages past them.
Sparing neither the highborn nor the untouchable.
Neither the king nor the beggar escapes the hells
Of life or death.
For they are but two sides of the same coin,
and dithery are they,
for one reigns supreme while the other lies in wait.
Some spirits not fully broken enter the vicious cycle again,
and up aboard the boat of the river, they set sail
and like droplets of rain, the souls leave the river and the flower far below,
to enter the mortal world once more.
Soon they discover hell to be better for there was nothing beyond the scythe,
life, they soon realize is an abattoir of souls, more vicious than hell itself.
Soon the river sends a the boat of death and gleefully the latch on,
and set sail to the gates of hell again to endure the reapers scythe once more.
And chaos reigns supreme as the river of time flows by..