Lying deep in dark forest keep is the bench of mocking memories
Holding tightly spellbound, painfully crowned with cursed indignity
In such place of beauty to please, and quiet to put the soul at ease
But the bench brings past to present to quench any delight of sight
And soft sound, so now drowned in melancholy that all seems drear
Far and near, as sleep steals over one who can no more see nor hear
And cheer is forbidden in accusing dreams, cream of hell’s theme
On Memory Bench, stench of regrets screaming from Accusing Board