My own canto

So in my English class, we learned Dantes Inferno. For a project we had to make a canto of our own. I put hipsters in my canto. We had to make it in terza rima, such as Dante did. But I also made mine rhyme. I want to share it with you all.
Here it is.

Hipster Hell

I looked upon this newest world

in a circle so obscure

it's name I had never even heard.

Where they dressed in terry robes

plain and white as paper be:

they paid for their scorn.

This level carried all the hipsters,

I approached one warily and with

caution asked, "Excuse me mister."

Frightened, he had suddenly shouted

"Who goes there?" At quick glance

I saw that his vision was clouded.

He squinted, saying, "I cannot see

but a trifle." Focusing, the man

asked, "And who might you be?"

I told him quickly and asked of

this level of Hell that I was now in.

He pointed hurriedly above.

He spoke, "If you had judged

your fellow friends, then well

pal, you are now fudged.

If all that you had cared for

was to be haughty well then

you shall regret feeling superior.

I, along with many others

had spent our life judgmental

and scornful of our brothers.

I thought myself better

with my scarves and my blogs.

Now all that I am is just a regretter.

I now pay for my hipster crimes

with monstrous torture and horrible

punishments for the rest of time.

Up the rocky mountains you spy

there is all of the newest

computers, but void of wifi.

We dwell upon this mountainous range

we are all dressed as equals

no one different or strange.

Within the pits between these mounts

we can climb down to a place

 of skinny jeans- massive amounts.

But if we try to touch

these magical clothing, they run

away and give us no warmth.

Next to this  skinny jean pit lies

a burning hot latte river that is

flavored like those wretched pumpkin pies."

He scowled but I felt no pity for his sinning

I walked up towards the mountain

peak, practically grinning.

After treading the hills I reached

the cyber café with all its complex

computers, yet to be breached.

They shined and they glistened

like Paradise must be to a man

close to death who suddenly breathed.

But the man cannot reach this shining

and mystical salvation so near,

so he goes about sulking and whining.

I turned to my guide who began

to speak. I rolled my eyes at

his irksome explanations again.

I watched the robed men reach upon

the machines with a small hope

but alas, there was none.

I watched pitilessly for these hipsters, I too hate.

I do not feel sadness for these men who

 felt so very high, superior and great.

As I followed my guide along to the next zone

I watched the man that I conversed with

look  at me as he moaned,

"We thought we were great

we thought we were so cool

but all that we did was utterly hate."