... 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