... Down to seventh circle
Here's what to expect
Just behind a turn
A view eyes reject
Infamy of Crete, self biting
Staggered by own ferocity
Lie in a hot river of blood
Wondrous trees in a black forest
Seething life drops far
Here dark peace, sorrow
Gloom
Sighs
Whines
Trees
Dread
Blood
Voice
Pain
Chased to bites by black she-mastiffs
Rain of fire all around them
Violence is lack of respect blindness towards
Life and its miracle; while the
Deepest of human feelings, with love
Blood
Stands as a memory
Of the life they have outraged
Now rivers of it
Burn off their cries
The solitary forest
Set me in anxiety
I found hold in a branch I have torn
Taken by the fear
Never thought it would have bled
No voice to utter asking
Begging me to clear his name
Soul spoke instead of me