January 4, 2018
By Rouge BRONZE, Houston, Texas
Rouge BRONZE, Houston, Texas
3 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Favorite Quote:
"Writing is exaggerating to the point where it becomes a lie." -me

In the dark, I saw her work...
The Goddess of miseries.
Watched as she drove them over edge, Berserk...
As she drew insanity from their lips.

The sting of the physical and verbal whip
The scrape of the blade, the snap of rope.
They shan’t look ‘round with eyes of hope
The women in black, men in suits.
as they hold sacred tribute
glassened eyes, chapped lips...

I watch as they take a dip
As she etches her artwork on the wrists and on the hips
I watch as she takes last shutter breath
No more shall she face their wrath...

I guide her along the streaming Styx
The river of the dead and the missed
I led her to the Lethe
The swirling steam of Memories

She whispers silently,
Her thanks as she smiles oh so sadly
I watch as the river washes away all her haunted memories,
As she forgets
I must watch
For I am her merciful suicide

The author's comments:

When writing this poem i was thinking about Greek mythology or ore specifically the Underworld. To me it just seemed to black and white. It was simple: you do good, you go to Esyluim (Paradise). If you do nothing to the Fields of Asphodel you go. (Wheat fields full of silence and misery) and if you really bad you go to the fields of Punishment where your tortured forever. I didn't like the black and white so I decided to make the Fields of Asphodel more grey than anything. When you go to the Fields of Asphodel you can't remember your past life and It occured to me that that could actually be a mercy for those whom face many dreadul things in thier life. This peom is the process of being transported to the fields of Asphodel.

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