Life is what you make it
Heaven's hope is love
Hell maybe the worst of all
We choose it like a glove
Some say that hell is full of fire
As greater bards have writ
And Ice by others is required
But who am I to spit
These futile words upon the page
To make my betters squeal?
I 'm just a fool I am no sage
And Hell's my rhyme to steal.
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Poetry: Hell
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