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Rated: ASR · Poetry · Death · #1934386
Entry for Writer's Camp competition - 40 Lines
Behind the ghastly gates of hell,
where angels fear to tread,
the black sun shines on Death's sweet shore
to illuminate the dead.

On his throne of skulls,
at the centre of the place,
a figure cowled in black,
a shadow on his face

"How I long to see the daylight,"
was the low lament
"I long to touch that other place
to make the great ascent."

The Lord of Bones, the King of Death,
The Baron of the Damned,
condemned to live below forever,
condemned by God's right hand.

Inside his mind his thoughts they raged
then burned with sudden fire.
He hatched a scheme with cunning joy
- escape from this awful mire!

Up above in the place of light
Amy Potts had died
A warm and caring soul to all
but on her tax return she'd lied

Amy was dragged before the throne
and with a fetid hiss
the Degenerate Lord of all that's foul
lent in and told her this:

"In a moment they'll revive you
You'll return again to life
change places with me now
you can rule this plane of strife"

Amy frowned and chewed her lip
"I'll do it on one condition.
You must never come here again
of your own volition"

The Tsar of Sinners well he said "Yes!"
and vanished double quick
sentenced to live a life of good
because he had missed the trick.
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