The Well

There is a place,
The edge of Hell,
That's not so hard to find.
A luring space
Within the well
Of darkness in my mind.

The winding stair
That marks the course
Is steep, to say the least.
A mortal tear
Within the force
That keeps at bay the beast.

The quick descent
Needs no intent;
The will is just released.
A slight consent
To false content;
Restraint is now decreased.

I near the well,
I dread the sight,
There is no turning back.
I feel the spell,
Choose not to fight,
My conscience growing slack.

The wall is thick
And draped with mold;
It draws with deadly power.
The shaft is slick,
Without a hold;
A deep inverted tower.

Then on the edge
I sit and look
Into that gaping maw.
Begin to dredge
With mental hook
In wonderment and awe.

The pull's too great.
I make a lunge
Into the sinful deep.
I feel the weight.
I take the plunge.
The consequence I'll reap.

The thrill is gone,
But not the mistake.
I know I must repent.
But later on
I'm doomed to make
That spiraling descent.