I Hate It.

Somewhere along the line I must have sinned,
What other explanation is there for this situation I'm in.
Imprisoned, in shackles, while one or both above and below cackle.

I am not permitted anything more than a glimpse,
Slivers of light through silver bars
That only remind me how dark is Dark.

I looking longingly towards solitude without temptation,
Yet I cannot separate the two.

Now I have an answer to a question I never before thought to ask...

Limbo is worse than Hell,
For you may still glimpse at the beauty of worlds above.