Without regret

Walking along the silent river, Styx.

While it boils and mix; its waters, pitch.

The air thick with malcontent and malice;

Bitterness drunk, as if from a golden chalice.

Walking, stalking there, the anguished's keeper; 

Cloaked in deepest night, purgatory's reaper.

A silent shepherd of these unforgiven lost.

As the host shrink from its presence of frost.

These abandoned damned, stumble and sieze;

Layments coddled, swaddled, unlived to ease .

Forgotten in thier choice, wretched thier voice;

Bemoaning, groaning, thier demons rejoice.

As failed memories grip, a self-lashing whip.

Flesh, bone and blood to strip, rip, and drip.

To be repeated, festering wounds untreated;

If only life embraced, without regret, completed.