Ovid's Withering - Acheron

Darkness slowly diseased the skies
A treshhold unveiled to the fields of Elysium
The storms set in – a wall of wind tamed by Charon to open the path
To the blackened gates of damnation
The sordid god – the keeper of souls

With silver coins placed eye on eye
They marched on a field of coals
Upon Lord King Minos the fallen
Now calling for the next
He slurred his words as the drool fell from his jaw
"Nothing saves the guilty from these crimes unjust"
Condemned to a prison of pain or enlightment

Nigh, a wretched ship upon a cursed river
This Eternal Suffering
They tear the skin from the flesh of the damned
And thus, sent from afar the rotting bodies gather
Psyches from the corpses flow
With Charon's fare misplaced
The dead roam the banks of Acheron

Cries of terror echo on
Through the depths of the forest in the heart of the wake
Embers drip from ebon blades - bound fire amongst the thralls
"Here is your betrayer. Destined to feast on the blood of his own
He must breathe death and accept the trials of his consequence."

Nigh, a wretched ship upon a cursed river
This Eternal Suffering
They tear the skin from the flesh of the damned
And thus, sent from afar the rotting bodies gather
Psyches from the corpses flow
With Charon's fare misplaced
The dead roam the banks of Acheron

Now assigned to their lines of judgement
They await the Unseen - the god of Erebus
As a fortress of bone rose from the ground
In succession they were gifted forlorn providence

And like a stygian ghost, their flesh became brimstone as they descended deep into the netherworld