Hell depends on who you ask,
Whether it’s a kind baker or a gunman in a mask.
For some hell is hot and reeks,
Smelling of death and the fear it seeks.
For others hell is cold and dark,
With their sins layed out, horribly stark.
It is up to each to decide their hell,
For some tortures specifically might not ring the Bell.
The Bell of course is one’s deepest fear,
The one so deep, nothing will stop a tear.
For some though, Hell is already their life,
Like for those who have lost a child or wife.
Or perhaps a husband or son in a war,
That left wounds raw and sore.
Hell is unique to each and every soul,
With their own personal demons fulfilling their goal.
Hell is something that cannot be defined,
Because hell is not something neatly lined.
It is full of a gray area where anything can go,
Even some things we will hopefully never know.
Hell is something we truly fear,
For in a twisted way it is something we hold dear.
After all, we created the concept of Hell,
So which is scarier, the creator or the cell?