In hell the suicide souls.
Now I stand in the darkness woods that I ever seen. A forest to be right. For here there was no day or night. For I could not mark my path at all. No green leaves or branches. But twisted and entangled, no fruit, but poison buds, no trees like one that exist at home. Here the repulsive demons sit in their nest. Wide winged they are.
With human faces and their feet like the animal that they are. Sitting in their nest shrieking their strange talk. And I thought I shall go no farther. And shall be still to the dreadful sand. I look around careful to see, with my own eyes what I was told not to describe. And around me wails of grief were echoing, but I saw no one there that made these sounds. I thought perhaps my thoughts have gone all to wild.
For rest I seek to stop here, for I tend on a shade that says. Why do you lend on me? And why did you rip me? For its blood turned dark around its wound. Have you no pity seeker of souls? For men and women we were once. But now the serpent holds our souls. With fright in my heart I seek to speak. O wounded souls that lives no more, forgive me for I did not know.
But tell me briefly your story of woes. The shade reply. It hurt me to speak so now. But sweet are your words that led me into a bit of conversation. For I held two keys to turn its lock and to unlock. But I was found unfaithful in my glorious office. I lost no sleep but life itself. For I inflame all those hearts against me. With my mind and with scornful dissatisfaction believing that death would have free me of my sins.
By strange roots and by my own free will I swear I took my life to end my sight. And here in this hell this tree I become. But when you seeker of souls return to the world above, my memories. That I remain cut down by blow that envy gave. Than the angel with me said, while he silent waste not your chance to ask all the you can. For time is knocking at the door. I reply to that soul. Your words cry out imprison soul. But may it please you to speak once more. To tell us if any soul may leave this place. He said, very briefly I will answer you this.
From the moment the soul leave the body, its is cast down to the seventh hole. But in verse the good book aid, we shall return to our bodies. But those who have done this deed. Never again shall ware them again. Wrong is it for that soul to have it again. What it one cast off. For it hangs here and there and that soul must drag it everywhere. Now my spirit cry for the story told. For these are the suicide souls
Now that time has entered the soulless door. And beacon the angel with me to send me back home. And here in my den I write for the rights of soul who took they'll life. And if God find mercy its would only bring to my heart the light of God's delight.
By Ronald Campbell.