Hell

Dead?
Not yet.
Hades said it wasn’t time yet.

Whips, and thorns (of seven deadly sins)
torturing battered bodies
which was secured to
chains that hung for ceilings
where red rubies dropped
to the pool of dried brown patch.

Screams of horror
turned into silent pleads
that was not headed at all.
Once crystal clear tears,
which rolled down the cheek
are now coloured in red.

Poison
which was forced down the throat
burned every places
it reached.

Hurried footsteps
heard outside in the forest
were silenced
by the gun fires.

With blistering foot, and rotting wounds
she pressed on
deep into the forest,
leaving a trail of black blood
that pollute the nature’s own fruits.

Soft, silent waters
that washes away dirt,
failed to do so
on the weary prisoners forever.

Dead?
No.
Not yet.
Hanging to a thread of life.
It's not time yet.

(written in 8/7/06)