The House of Hope
Welcome to the nine Hells, house of the fiends
In Raphael's home, no less, such shame
The House of Hope, where you will meet your end.
As no one treads on demon soil in fame
The Hell's most grand museum, collecting
All sorts of trinkets, mostly souls of course
Soldoff for "greater good", and now they sing
For you to kill the devil, end its curse
You slay his incubus, use his collection
And guided by a Hope, a grudge
You steal back what he took, life in motion
You break Hell's chains, so he may end in sludge
But on your way back, Hammer and Hope in
There comes the devil, steaming and enraged
At crossroads, inns and hotels, you shook him
Now you might chop his hand, with all its deals.
-Nicolas Besson
This poem is part of my series of weekly poems which you can find here (feel free to leave a comment)
