The Land Of Purgatory

Once you are born you are dying slowly, we are all born to die.

Open the gates of Purgatory,

Let thy corporeal self in it's lands.

Do not let the cries of lonesomeness worry,

They are the lost souls and whispers in it's lands,

Forever wondering why they are here,

They wonder what sins they've done.

You can feel a cold chill in the air,

The soft cold breaths everywhere.

 

The place seems to be by a photo-sphere,

The shading seems to be in gray here.

The dead memories and lost dreams grow on the dead silky vines,

The vines grow everywhere,

More and more with each second that passes,

There is no pain, There is no emotion, Just death,

The perfection that is death is all there is here.

You can see a tempest in the background, Far away from here,

The wind seems to blow towards the dark clouds of screaming souls,

The lightning seems to be green and hit's the gardens below.

The garden is full of red roses and daisies,

Each flower with it's own grave,

A new flower grows with each person that passes away,

And that is the end of this tale today.

Author's Note

Again, This is free verse poem and one of the first poems I ever made and I decided to share it with you. Enjoy.