At some point in time curious children wonder of death,
About heaven or... hell.
There's been no stories to tell,
Just rumours and wild guesses.
When will they ever just move on and accept it?
Hell is simply a composition of hurts we despise, a summary of pain, maybe even like a poem's refrain.
If hell is just an endless abyss or chasm
why do we all have a dream of falling deep into the blackness?
If hell is just an orifice in the corner of our mind,
who's to say we haven't already died fifty million times?
No one knows about hell,
Yet on the wonders of hell they leave their minds to dwell.
Maybe hell in itself is not knowing what hell is,
No one knows for sure.
P.s. this is just a few of the things I keep hearing people say they believe about hell. I genuinely don't know what to believe so I just ignore the thought all together but yeah, a poem.