A vacant vessel, void of hope or faith
A sundered soul, despairing, dying, lost
So it remains, a restless, roving wraith
Until it can collect for Charon's cost.

His life force flowing, going to the grave
It dries, he dies, though does not dread the dead
He fights his fear, but not because he's brave
He must escape the Hell that haunts his head

Descend through darkened doors and dire straits
Towards the destination of the damned.
He can't escape the human heart he hates
The devil's deal he's made has left him scammed. 

If you write emo poems, check it, son
You best be taking notes; that's how it's done.