Repetition Of Hell Poem by Yiling Ding

In the lonely places
of my heart,
a wretched fire burns,
all agony.
The odors of decay
are an impenetrable smog,
and the wanderer
is a blind man navigating
a treacherous swamp:
Every step lands him in
all defiling sin, an
unerasable mark. He
carries the burden of
each misstep. Soon,
he will be unified with
the landscape.

The heart is frozen,
escaping away from its
uncontrollable madness.
But no cold purity will
the traveler find here.
Instead, a bone-chilling,
wrenching pain, a wind
that cuts like ice, but
is full of clammy,
sticky death. A place
more horrid than
the coldest pole and
the ruthless desert.
Hell is embodied in this
stagnant suffering.

For indeed, the traveler
is forever falling into
the same swampy filth,
and being cut by
the same relentless gale.
A mad repetition.

The heart has
froze in time, wanting
to escape from
the overbearing world.
Now I see myself
unable to progress,
trapped in this
insanity.
Cannot open my eyes
to find my way out.
Too scared.