Hell Is Hell isn’t some burning hole beneath the Earth. Hell isn’t flames and screams. Hell isn’t the horrid life after your death That picks and tears at your seams. Hell is a cold bedroom at night, Sickly pale skin so frigid it burns, Bloodshot eyes refusing to sleep. Hell is drowning out your own voice, When you realize none of your friends Are even listening to you. Hell is peace, interrupted By the memories of injuries You always blamed yourself for. Hell isn’t our life after death. Hell is the life we regret. And the devil isn’t a man with horns Making a deal with you on the crossroads. The devil is the man Who denies me humanity.
