WE ARE IN HELL
We dismissed hell as superstition, only to discover it reborn in ourselves, in silence, loss, and the ruins we inhabit.
24 Jan, 2026
Share
Save
In the ivory halls of my youth, where the scholars were clever and cold,
I was fed on the "profoundest contempt" for the myths of the pit.
The "doctrine of hell" was a story too frayed and too old,
A "rubbish-heap of outworn ideas" where only the ignorant sit.
I remember the sunlight on desks, the pride of a mind left unbound,
Laughing at demons as if they were dust on a shelf;
We thought that the truth was a thing to be logically found,
Never dreaming the fire was something we'd carry ourselves.
But the "novelty" arrived like a frost in the heat of the day,
An "exposition" that stripped every comfort and vanity bare.
I watch as the colours of living turn brittle and grey,
And the "so-called eternal punishment" breathes in the air.
"And yet I cannot deny the fact”—how it weighs on the chest,
This slow-bleeding ache that no reason or logic can mend;
It’s the rhythm of hearts that are beating but never can rest,
A corridor walking in circles that never will end.
The "doctrine" we buried has risen with teeth like a blade,
Not in the sulfur of earth, but in the silence of rooms.
It’s the debt of the soul that can never be fully repaid,
The way that a memory flickers and slowly consumes.
"Hell?" I ask of the ghost in the glass, as the shadows all swell,
Feeling the chill of a world that has finally turned;
For the truth is a "novelty" we are too broken to tell:
That "we are already in hell," in the bridges we’ve burned.
About the author
Life has made me a curious and passionate wordsmith, seeking to understand the human experience through writing and reading. With each sentence, I unravel the mysteries of thought and emotion, connecting with others on a profound level. My love of words is a quest to share in the beauty and complexity of human souls.
