You are a soul in Hell. It is not fair.
Your sins were many, mean, and in your eyes
they sting like wasps. You have forgotten ties
to love and such. They do not matter there

for Hell takes all your time. An angry pain
resents all that you were, and takes it back.
You are no more – simply what on the rack
is turned and twisted. Broken. Dies again

for what it’s worth. Learns to do death quite well.
Is proud for hell is nothing without pride
envy and anger. They eat you inside
until there’s nothing but this face of Hell.

Heaven’s the same, you’re just a song of praise.
So love your self for all your mortal days.


About rozkaveney

Middleaged, trans, novelist, poet, activist
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