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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Fantasy · #1839982
A man serves his penance marking the sins unto the undead

His penance is served through the pain of others
He marks them of their crime
In lines they wait for entrance
Oblivious to the time

A man of smaller stature
Bearded and full of might
The little man carries the weight
Of the souls day and night

He marks upon their chest
The burden they must wear
Numbered one through seven
For all the land to share

In a molten pit of ash and fire
His brand glows a fiery red
Sweating he draws his branding iron
He sears the number unto the undead

A gruesome ghastly smell of flesh
A sulfurous burning fills the air
Their screams of anguish rile the night
It is his cross to bear

For as they enter the burning walls
And their stay in Purgatory begins
Every single wandering soul
Must meet the Brander of Sins

Branded as they enter the mighty fortress
To different levels they proceed
To give punishment for their ways
And force the eternal bleed

Be it lust, greed, or gluttony
Or it may be sloth and wrath
Pride or envy it makes no matter
They all follow the merciless path

Down the pits they travel
To dungeons of fury and hell
Fire dances from the walls
No water fills the well

An eternity of malicious torture
Is what the soul awaits
Herded in like flocks of slaves
Through the massive burning gates

So as the weary sinner
Starts his journey to the unknown
From his chest he bears the brutal scars
For all others to be shown

Forced down the Halls of Purgatory
As the screams of slaughter begins
Their last sight, is of a dwarven man
They call the Brander of Sins
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1839982