hell is painted as eternal torture and pain,
while life is celebrated as a blessing.
but where do they intersect,
when does joy dissolve into damnation?
perhaps we've misunderstood all along,
there is no sudden turn, no abrupt divide,
just an unbroken railroad track,
stretching endlessly ahead.
we are the train, bound to this path,
unable to disembark,
unless we choose the final, early exit.
i feel my stop approaching,
because, truthfully, i cannot stay seated any longer,
the journey is relentless, the tracks unyielding,
and i am weary of this ceaseless ride.
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poems
Poetrypoems i've written. THE ONES FROM THE BOTTOM UP ARE THE BEST. i promise they get better and more lengthy. please don't take without credits. please don't copyright. and please don't make fun of these 🙏🙏😭.
