Puzzle box of the damned


Feigned hope lost in misery, to the comfort of your mind

The stench of rotting dreams block out the comforts of the sublime

The scortched sun has long since blinded you to the deadly grove of trees

Fruit grown fat is dangling hatred, swaying in the breeze

The cenobites have caught you, with molten lava hooks

Dragging you downward to sheol, where a thousand pains and pleasures are intwined...

Lost to the dark unknown, the damned unholy swine...

There are no flames in hell, only endless brimstone mines

But even as all hope has died, you display stigmata strikes

Satan finds this strange, because you were never crucified

Undead blood pours from a thousand wounds, that bear the marks of the Nazerine

Satan casts you out of hell, because your soul is clean

What to do with the unholy box, the lament configuration

Solving the cubed puzzle brings eternal damnation

You put it back into the fire, some future fool's treasure

Years down the line, the unfortunate fool, is asked, "Sir, what is your pleasure?"

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Inspired by Clive Barker's "Hellraiser".

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