Everyone learns faster on fire
Things took a turn, lost all desire
You live and you burn
You live and...
Like hell, we are anxiously waiting
Like hell burning silently strong
Somehow we fell down by the wayside
And somehow this hell is home
Granted, things aren't perfect right now I know that they could always be worse.
Hell is not a place, it's a state of mind. Even Milton wrote, "The mind is its own place, and in itself/Can make a Heav’n of Hell, a Hell of Heav’n". My problem is that I over analyze. When I don't mean to, my mind wanders. An inquiring mind is both a gift and a curse. I cannot manage to 'turn it off'. But for right now, this Hell is my home...
1 comment:
true on the how-we-can-perceive-things part
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