– I met a man who suffered more than I
At a street corner. Then another.
Yet one more.
After, I found a blackened street of poor
Fiends who had suffered an eternity.
I asked the first man for his company
But he refused; so wondering why
I thought to ask the second man, whose stare
Of perfect contempt held such frigidity
I climbed the blackened street in haste to hell
Those who suffered most, to ask what had been done
To deserve this. But there was a curse in their laugh.
Then I remembered that I was in hell.
Yes – what had I done to earn even the
damned’s scorn?
And turned back down the blacker street
of self, knowing well enough.
