I write of guilt the souls tyrrany delight
Given hell given fright, it will not vanish in the night.
No deed of wrath esscapes its grip, none better for the trip
Into depts of hell those souls who failed tell... 
Their deeds regreat feeds on man's desire, his anger quench not the fire
No pleasure found not an ounce with matter. 
Another happless victim to become your you, no less wanting 
No less through with life eternal, His judgement...
The Hand, your sorrow, man's just due. 

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