Living Hell

by Rosan

Published April 19, 2013

12+

In Random Things to See

Will I escape this living hell
where faith contains a bitter taste
and hope gives off a pungent smell
that rots our hearts to moldy waste?
 
This place stains our cores pitch black,
makes us grow our inner horns,
fills us with evil we lack,
and pricks us with its spiteful thorns.
 
Lust becomes a sweet dessert.
Greed turns to the main course dish.
Without any efforts to exert,
it comes to you like a granted wish.
 
This isn’t just an endless pit
or any scorching space.
It isn’t even infinite,
it’s where we live our days. 
Comments & reviews · 2
SecreteJournalist wrote a review Review · May 8, 2013

Life itself can be heaven or hell. There's the good times, but even know as I type there are the bad times. Your poem truly is a gruesome, yet magnificent piece. I am curious to know what inspired you to write this, if you don't mind the question of course. But anyway, you have great punctuation, spelling, this poem is flawless. Keep on writing, you will go far!

Rosan replied · May 9, 2013

I'm not really sure how to answer because it just popped out of my mind.

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msyterious
Review
msyterious wrote a review Review · Apr 19, 2013

Hey...it is a really nice poem.....the way you have described the current standard of life....the degrading values....it forces the reader to think about what the world has become.

This is my very first review...so I wont comment on the technicalities as I am myself very sparingly aware of them.

But could you tell me what exactly you wanted to tell through your last paragraph...it was not entirely clear to me.

Rosan replied · Apr 20, 2013

The meaning of it is the place we live in:
"It%u2019s where we live our days." It was originally "...spend our days" but I just put live.
Sorry about that.

Rosan replied · Apr 20, 2013

The meaning of it is the place we live in:
"Its where we live our days." It was originally "...spend our days" but I just put live.
Sorry about that.

okay thanks :)



'Hush, hush!' I whispered; 'people can have many cousins and of all sorts, Miss Cathy, without being any the worse for it; only they needn't keep their company, if they be disagreeable and bad.
— Emily Bronte, Wuthering Heights