Walking down into the Hell,

all I expected was the fire.

But I am mistaken, once again...

It was a maze.

Like a riddle,

I am dying to figure out.

Looking from the outskirts

of it, everyone could

saw the luring charms,

the masks that veils

the torturings inside.

As walking inside, I saw

the misleading stone-paved paths.

My bare feet tingled 

with the tenderness

of the stone, for it was not so old,

but beaten rough 

with heat emitted from

all pretendings and numbness.

The never-ending maze masked 

by love and care,

denying its existence,

claiming that its an absolute hell,

but once again I say,

All hell had once been heaven.

And to its depth, the heavenliness still remains.

Only with the guidance of 

deep thoughts and 

trials of understandings,

I lead myself to the core 

of pure hatred, trying

to figure out

where the pain came from.

In the visions that haunted me,

I saw the eyes of a child

in pain and suffering,

the hands that held books,

a pen that battled with words,

heart with love that never united.

The fire aflame, burning the hell itself

 into ashes, for nothing could escape its wrath.

Not even the coldest heart 

can cool down the flames.

But here I am willing to walk into the fire,

to lessen the burns in the walls of hell,

to give my soul to lessen the scorching heat,

to give my hand in the fight.

And I know, every hell had once been heaven.

And to its depth, the heavenliness still remains.

I was walking among the fires of Hell, delighted with the enjoyments of Genius; which to Angels look like torment and insanity."― William Blake