Hour 1: My Personal Hell

Hell is not a place
It is a heart
One that beats too many times a minute
At the thought of you.

It’s telling myself to be calm
When this stupid muscle goes crazy
Just at the sight of you.

Hell was never a place
No, it was always a person

And fear… With no end.

Fear of losing, myself, of being unable to let go.

My personal hell consists of this fear
And of memories of you.

The source of it all, you know
Just a sight and I can’t help
Feeling the need to run and hide.

Hell is not a place
It is you
All that you did not do and it is a heart
That still beats for you.

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