The River Styx is not for fishing
Nor is it for skipping stones
It is for weeping, wishing,
and collecting polished bones
One can float for hours
Lulled to sleep by the ambience like a lullaby
Until the waterfall drops to Tartarus
The pit of unholy things mankind would deify
There are the eternal towers
Home to those frigid burning chains
The ticklers and tormentors plan their artifice
On it all like a fond memory the waterfall rains
Dec 13, 2017
Dec 13, 2017 at 6:08 PM UTC
The River Styx is not for fishing
Nor is it for skipping stones
It is for weeping, wishing,
and collecting polished bones
One can float for hours
Lulled to sleep by the ambience like a lullaby
Until the waterfall drops to Tartarus
The pit of unholy things mankind would deify
There are the eternal towers
Home to those frigid burning chains
The ticklers and tormentors plan their artifice
On it all like a fond memory the waterfall rains