The Sinner's Walk

The Sinner’s Walk

There is a cobblestone path
Lined with head-topped pikes,
And rotting remains, in chains,
Of cruelly whipped things.

Phantasmal zombie armies with
Their wormhole eyes, and foul grins
Stare a sunken stare, imitating the last
Moments of a miserable life.

The blood-dyed, crimson walkway is
Adorned with stripped flesh,
Callously flayed from bone
And left to rot in its place.

The bare soles of many, trace a
Wicked trail to the end of the shady road
Where Repentance is waiting patiently,
In this, Her Bone Orchard.

There is a sickly stench of vomit, and
Vile substances erupt with putrid fumes
That scald nostrils and itch ones skin,
While hideous things crawl through the
Fecal remains of the once-living folk;
Those consanguineous hosts having
Served their purpose in life, serve another in death.

My walk is a long one, darkened by
Wraith-like apparitions from the other side
Hungry fangs and barbed talons beleaguer me,
Rapaciously ripping with glee.
Their cold voices moan morbidly, calling my soul
As I continue slowly forth, to my end.

Tattered clothing hangs loosely from my
Thin and frail frame; I smell of sulfur and soot.
Lice-filled hair, knotted as rope, crowns me
My hands hang wearily by my lifeless side;
The throbbing is painfully everlasting
And the vileness of it all is choking.

My bony, blistered feet trod on and on and
I step ever forward, ever closer, to my destiny.
I have traveled ten thousand miles
Beside countless others like me,
But my journey has just begun,
And I see no end to my Sinner’s Walk.