The sun beats down
Through endless days,
But red like fire.
Burning,
Scorching,
Like a blowtorch on our backs.

We lead the Souls
Through their tortures
To which they are condemned
For years
Or millenia.
Pushing through mundane pain.

I came to be
Through pain and hate,
Birthed from an unwilling womb.
Screaming,
Cursing.
Rejected by her to serve the Lord.

The Lord is my father
Though I am his slave,
I am one who does his bidding
Without choice
Or hope
Yet still my body endures this fire.

The fires burn
With intolerable heat,
The souls march forever onwards
Through their tortures
And desires.
Watching their lives fall off them.

And the Lord watches,
From his dark granite throne,
Whipping us both, Soul and soulless.
Am I soulless?
Or dead?
The question turns my innards in circles.

Soul or soulless,
Still I am condemned to serve,
Forever under my father’s watchful eye.
Waiting,
Watching,
For the time when Gabriel takes me back home.

Slave as I am,
Hope continues,
Through the fire and pain.
Eternal torture.