Self is Hell

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Self is hell. I write these lines
As a cry for help, for I've seen the signs
That say, "NO EXIT", "FEEL FREE
TO SCRAWL UPON THE WALLS OF ME."

However much I dig or shove,
My tools will always be self-love.
Change the name, the shade, the shape --
It's I for an I, and no escape.

By radio, road, or affiliation,
I turn and turn, but it's always a station
Where the truth is capped like the end of a nerve,
Or the arrows all point to the same "Self Serve".

The will to question 'Me' and 'My'
Could be a diamond, but if I die
Within this 'Mine', will I turn to coal
And give up the light for the dust of my soul?

"Add fuel to your fire; let your dreams burn on!
(In these few final hours, before the Dawn)."
They speak for the cold and the dark, no doubt;
But where will I go when they put Me out?

When day arrives, dreams must die,
Except one dream of clear blue sky.
On Our waking up, I will know very well
That heaven is all, and Self is hell.

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