Two coins be the worth,
Of a Soul unheard.
Whispered welcomes,
Darkened stares,
The Beyond beckons
At the end of the Stairs.
The sound I hear, I once held dear,
A River that flows, is the music I hear.
The Waters are dead,
Not for the absence of life,
But the absence of hope.
A River so black that even my Soul would dread.
'Tis not Water that flows,
'Tis not Blood.
Nor is it Darkness or other Things untold.
I see a glimmer as I come to recognize,
What was once a Dream
To my now tired dead eyes.
A Promise unfulfilled now hits the Barge,
As The boatman reaches for the coins with hands large.
I pay the Price as I board the Boat,
Another broken toy tightens my throat.
Every Dream...
Every Hope...
A Wish forgotten,
A Desire lost...
To me they are the true cost.
A burden They may seem,
But there is a joy to this Darkness I gleam.
'Tis the River of The Dead,
And all that They leave behind.
In this Styx, My last dregs of Life I find
