The Ferryman’s Toll

The Ferryman’s Toll

Midnight fog on the riverbed,
Echoed wails of the restless dead,
Coins that clink on hollow eyes,
Guiding souls where daylight dies.

Oars that creak through waters black,
Ribs of bone that line the track,
Ferryman with no face to show,
Collects the toll where shadows grow.

Row, row, through the tide,
Where the damned and broken hide,
Pay the toll with blood or breath,
The Ferryman rows through life and death.

Spectral hands that grasp the wood,
Beg for life they never could,
Hollow cries that pierce the mist,
Lost to darkness, never kissed.

Lantern glows with ghastly fire,
Lighting paths to funeral pyre,
Eyes like voids that pierce the soul,
Pulling hearts into the cold.

River wide and deep as sin,
Traps the souls who’ve drowned within,
No redemption, no release,
Rowing through the cursed seas.

Row, row, through the tide,
Where the damned and broken hide,
Pay the toll with blood or breath,
The Ferryman rows through life and death.

Morning light will never reach,
Where his oars through shadows breach,
And as you sink below the stream,
The Ferryman hums his endless theme.