Persephone: Poetry

I've lived in the Underworld,
and I have been its Queen,
wandering the catacombs
of rotting homes
and all that is unclean

The sun shines but gives no heat;
Night swells with terror's breath,
always beseeched
with walking dead who screech
they find no respite from Death

These spirits hold my hands morosely,
asking me why I cry
But it matters naught
how I was caught
Just that I cannot fly

Seven years I've served my time
Counting out more than 2500 days
Yet even under this curse
I've become well versed
in the Physics of Hell's ways

There's a secret to this chessboard,
glimpsed in the ashes of The Ring:
If I've the chance to be
completely free,
I must first defeat Hell's King.

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