Challenge
Challenge of the Month XXXIX
Write a short poem about your own private Hell. The tortured who reigns gets 100 big ones. Winner will be picked by Prose. Go.
Me
Me
It's the mind
how it spins
Turns all thoughts on their head
It's the web
how it weaves
Spells 'I'm better off dead'
See the sights
drink the air
Watch the wild world turning
Take a drink
share a laugh
While my insides are churning
There's a place
In the skull
Where the light never comes
There's a pill
And a bottle
I can swallow; stay numb
In the Bible
it's all fire
And they pay for their sins
In my Head
it's far worse
A slow drowning within
So if the Hell
that I've read
Is the last thing I see
I'll be glad
for the peace
From the Hell that is Me.
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