I was writing my memoirs

My Life

when my death occurred

the dark angels brought me

to this place of fallen angels

where I must stoke the fires of hell for

Eternity

And I cry

not from the infernal pain

of my burning flesh

but for my writings

lost to humanity forever

for amongst these burning souls

there is none to rescue me

Gabriel my old Archangel friend

is busy with that old whore Magdalena

and Saddam is soon to join me here

Adolph and Josef are playing wargames in

the darkest corner

and no one will speak to Pol Pot

except me of course

For now we are good friends

Pol and I

we often talk about new ideas

of genocide

but our plans for the future

are like the mist on the Somme

memories of slaughtered millions

Eternal

but not of this world

And I

I will be forgotten