Hell is not a place you go, it is a place you make.
When selfishness, and fear, and lies demark the route you take.
Where nothing’s free, and theft’s called “care,” and love is lined with hooks
Where martyrdom, consistently, is sought with haughty looks.
Where feasts are laid for animals, and people get the dregs,
Where souls are crushed by those who will not stand on their own legs.
Where children wear a crown of thorns, get strung up for all to see
The jest of those who smugly hide their insecurity.
Where hate is wrapped with ribbons, and holidays are lies
Where each smile, laugh, and compliment is nothing but disguise.
Hell is not a place you make, it is a place I go,
When chains from links of DNA pull relentlessly back home.
Hell is inescapable, it’s the navel of the earth
We bear its scarred reminding from the first day of our birth.
Hell is not a far off land, I am the living proof.
Hell is where the heart is, when no one speaks the truth.
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