River

At the bottom of this river, there lye forgotten souls. Most of then have been sold. How cold. This is Satan's river, no one can go by it, without the slightest quiver. These souls have sinned, you fell the breeze, yet there's no wind. His river, cold black water, he is not a giver. There is no life in these waters of tears, we can't extract our fears. Till our last breaths we are terrified. The ground gives away under him, and the river consumes all sins. Any man would tremble at his feet. He peers into your soul when you first meet. Your insides give away, you see black, then into the river, where you never come back.  
 
Copyright © 2013 by Gabriela Cueto Perryman
 
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