The Roads of Hell

I've walked the roads of hell, often looking back,

never doth thine own feet did tarry, even for rest when weary.

Walking circles round at crossroads bound, until a choice had been found.

A sea of evil, and ocean of living corpse all around.

I walked on and on, once or twice, I paid a price,

pain cut deeper than any vice.

To pick a kindly soul from the ground, to not let a kindness extinguish,

I know twas mistake as only more suffrage did I make.

I walk alone, this ending road, where one day I shall bleed,

from this be freed, hell hath served its purpose,

it broke the kindly surface and left naught but coldly carcass.