I've discovered Hell, and the truth is,
It isn't a place you go, it's a sickness.
It resides within your bones
And its scaffolding is made from trauma.
The only fire you'll find is from the white-hot flashbacks
That leave you drenched in sweat that smells like smoke.
No-one lives there except you and your enemies,
And your enemies are fragments of history, unable to be killed.
Your mind is the devil that subjects you to punishment
That you can't help but be convinced that you deserve,
And escape is a notion kept only for tears;
Everything else remains trapped.
Hell is being held within the cage of your own body
And killing yourself trying to break free.

My mind keeps forgetting
how to breathe right
For while others air go
In and out
out and in
In a simple function of normality
Mine falters a lot of the time

Turns my voice into wheezing gasps
The dead could speak better than I
My lungs squish into a tiny box
In the center of my chest
Causing a volcanic eruption of pain

It is a very similar feeling to my heart
Which thumps and clamors
At a speed unknown to humanity
The pace of a jackrabbit heart
whose cotton little tail's on fire
Until it simply feels like it
**pops