From Hell

Dear Mom,

I am writing to you from the most horrible place that I have ever seen,

and more horrible than you could ever imagine.

It is BLACK here,

so DARK that I cannot even see all the souls

I am constantly bumping into.

I only know they are people like myself

from the blood curdling SCREAMS.

My voice is gone from my own screaming

as I writhe in pain and suffering.

I cannot even cry for help anymore,

and it is no use anyway,

there is no one here that has any compassion

at all for my plight.

The PAIN and suffering\

in this place is absolutely unbearable.

It so consumes my every thought,

I could not know if there were any other sensation to come upon me.

The pain is so severe, it never stops day or night.

The turning of days does not appear because of the darkness.

What may be nothing more than minutes

or even seconds seems like many endless years.

The thought of this suffering continuing without end

is more than I can bear.

My mind is spinning more and more with each passing moment.

I feel like a madman,

I cannot even think clearly under this load of confusion.

I fear I am losing my mind.

The FEAR is just as bad as the pain,

maybe even worse.

I don’t see how my predicament could be any worse than this,

but I am in constant fear that it MIGHT be at any moment.

My mouth is parched,

and will only become more so.

It is so dry that my tongue cleaves to the roof of my mouth.

I recall that old preacher saying that’s what Jesus Christ endured

as he hung on that old rugged cross.

There is no relief,

not so much as a single drop of water

to cool my swollen tongue.

To add even more misery to this place of torment,

I know that I deserve to be here.

I am being punished justly for my deeds.

The punishment, the pain, the suffering

is no worse than I justly deserve,

but admitting that now will never ease the anguish

that burns eternally in my wretched soul.

I hate myself for committing the sins to earn such a horrible fate,

I hate the devil that deceived me so that I would end up in this place.

And as much as I know it is an unspeakable wickedness

to think such a thing,

I hate the very God that sent his only begotten Son

to spare me this torment.

I can never blame the Christ that suffered

and bled and died for me,

but I hate him anyway.

I cannot even control my feelings

that I know to be wicked, wretched and vile.

I am more wicked and vile now

than I ever was in my earthly existence.

Oh, If only I had listened.