Purgatory
"Why hello, dear stranger, come on in.
Do take a seat,
Now, let's begin."
The seat on which you sit is white,
gnarled and cold; a frightful sight.
The floor boards beneath it's feet do moan,
You are sitting upon a chair of bone.
"Oh, dear stranger, let me see,
How much time is left for you, for me."
You find that you cannot sit still,
Your own hands move without your will.
They tap and tap upon the table top,
And you realize that you cannot stop.
"Would you like a drink?
To quench your thirst?
A glass of water?
You'll be the first."
Your host waltzes to an old bronze tap,
And turns the resistant handle with a snap.
A glass appears out of smoke,
The hand of your host veiled by its cloak.
"If I were to pour some water out,
to feed my plants - they are in drought -
Would the glass be half empty or half full?
Give me your answer, however cruel."
You listen carefully for a sound,
And find that no such sound can be found,
Apart from the drip of water to the ground.
"Fine then, don't tell me what you think,
Just push my curiosity to the brink.
I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I do apologize.
I must look very bad at this unto your eyes."
Everything feels like a dream,
Whilst things above are tearing at the seams.
You wish to run and scream and yell,
To escape this horrible, vague yet gruesome hell.
"Hell?" He questions, his face turned away,
Keeping it's monstrous image quite at bay.
" Far from it, you'll find, as you yet stay,
Longer on the path of grey. "
"It leads nowhere, you will find.
Logic has been left far far behind.
I wish you luck, though, anyway.
I'll see you again, maybe, one day."
He turns to a door that was absent before.
He opens it.
And the candle, the candle keeping the demons away....
Goes out, out, out.
He peers outside.
Darkness, with no where to hide.
He grins.
In it you see
Evil,
Yet comfort.
"Welcome,"
A lie, a lie!
"To purgatory."
Do take a seat,
Now, let's begin."
The seat on which you sit is white,
gnarled and cold; a frightful sight.
The floor boards beneath it's feet do moan,
You are sitting upon a chair of bone.
"Oh, dear stranger, let me see,
How much time is left for you, for me."
You find that you cannot sit still,
Your own hands move without your will.
They tap and tap upon the table top,
And you realize that you cannot stop.
"Would you like a drink?
To quench your thirst?
A glass of water?
You'll be the first."
Your host waltzes to an old bronze tap,
And turns the resistant handle with a snap.
A glass appears out of smoke,
The hand of your host veiled by its cloak.
"If I were to pour some water out,
to feed my plants - they are in drought -
Would the glass be half empty or half full?
Give me your answer, however cruel."
You listen carefully for a sound,
And find that no such sound can be found,
Apart from the drip of water to the ground.
"Fine then, don't tell me what you think,
Just push my curiosity to the brink.
I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I do apologize.
I must look very bad at this unto your eyes."
Everything feels like a dream,
Whilst things above are tearing at the seams.
You wish to run and scream and yell,
To escape this horrible, vague yet gruesome hell.
"Hell?" He questions, his face turned away,
Keeping it's monstrous image quite at bay.
" Far from it, you'll find, as you yet stay,
Longer on the path of grey. "
"It leads nowhere, you will find.
Logic has been left far far behind.
I wish you luck, though, anyway.
I'll see you again, maybe, one day."
He turns to a door that was absent before.
He opens it.
And the candle, the candle keeping the demons away....
Goes out, out, out.
He peers outside.
Darkness, with no where to hide.
He grins.
In it you see
Evil,
Yet comfort.
"Welcome,"
A lie, a lie!
"To purgatory."