LIVING HELL

Stuck deep in the bog,

The smell of death and rot,

I was pulling ahead with faith,,

Thinking that someone ,

Would rescue my tortured soul,

The morrow that would bring light onto me,

And which would direct me to the shore,

I was waiting patiently for that beacon,

In the mist that manifested my surroundings,

It made me blind and I kept falling in holes,

Helpless,I was,from the days of yore,

The bog,thick with weeds ,and murky waters,

Many a pond lay there;some as big as the seas,

What made it harder were the fetters that I wore,

A part of me now,like a chronic disease,

Then I saw a rope,thick and long.

Of the kind used in the quay,

Instinctively I grabbed at it,hard,

Maybe,deliverance had finally found me,

I pulled at it and heard a splash,

The rope came loose and fell,

And,from a distance,I heard,

The heartrending cries ,

It seemed,from the depths of hell,

“Where am I” ,I cried?

There was no answer,

My soul was condemned,

For eternity,I would slog,

In this lifeless,misty, bog,

Hell was not under the earth,

It was not in the sky,

It was inside my shell,

Where my soul resides,

So ,here I was, stuck in hell,

In the life that I was living,

With the comfort that,for a mortal I,

My death would be forgiving,