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The real H e l l

        The flames


The flames
        They lick against my face
Like little biting demons


        I’ve fallen
I’ve fallen

        I've fallen from grace

The burning
       The burning
It scorches my soft flesh


Eating at me eternally
      I’ve fallen
I’ve fallen from my best



      Now I’m just a shadow
Of a former me
      I know it’s impossible
To return to what I used to be

Because I’ve sold my soul
         But for a good price
I received what I wanted

But lost my real life

Author notes

Metaphorical hell, hell on earth.

I sold my soul to the drugs and in return I received a few moments of complete and total mumbness from the pain. Bliss in a puff, a snort, a shoot, a swallow.

Is it worth it?

Is one willing to truly sell their souls for a moment of perfection?

If not, why is humanity subjecting to such a thing? Are we all really that weak?

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