Hell

Another line, 

It's not that type of line.

A line so crooked,

Waving from side to side.

A winding road,

Deep, dark caves.

A canvas so blank,

To write my hell on.

A whisper in my ear,

No one can hold onto it.

You cannot keep ahold of it,

A grasp that's never going to keep tight.

Dear the Human Race,

It's a hell out there. 

Author's Note

This is something that came up, days after having no contact with anyone. Enjoy