HELL IS NOT HOT,
THIS I NOW KNOW.
AN OLD WIVES’ TALE,
THE OLD MYTH CAN GO.
SHIVERING ALL DAY,
I’M LIVING IN HELL.
STEEL AND CONCRETE,
A COLD JAIL CELL.
FLOOR MADE OF CEMENT,
NO CARPETS OF GOLD.
A CHROME METAL DESK,
SMOOTH AND COLD.
ONE T-SHIRT TO WEAR,
FAIRLY THIN, WITHOUT DOUBT.
BLANKET FULL OF HOLES,
EXTRA TOWELS HELP OUT.
ICY STARES COME FROM,
COLD-HEARTED MEN.
SITTING ON STEEL BENCHES,
LONELINESS THEIR ONLY FRIEND.
I’M LIVING IN HELL,
NO WARMTH TO HOLD.
THE FLAMES ARE A LIE,
I KNOW, HELL IS COLD.
COMPOSED….1995
BY WAYNE J. WAGAR
