i have some reservations about posting this one...

Why is hell always suspended above our heads?
Each corner held by a rope, the center sags
If I stand up too straight, my head brushes
Gentlemen, don't put your hands up
Unless it's- gentlemen, put your hands up!
And they have a gun
Moving around or
When I jump the pieces of hell start giggling as they clink together
Everything I do breaks down and adds to the weight
When it collapses, the white paint around me starts speaking "red"
Go away hell, I don't want your pain
I'm tired of every little game
Every time I look up- you're there
I think to myself "I'm not good enough,"
And I'm not, so a corner comes undone
I start trying too hard, and I am-
So there goes another corner
I throw my cares in the air like sand
I rhyme I try to find relief
I read I write I pray
I try good
I try bad
I try quiet
I try loud
There goes another corner
Three are gone...three are gone!
Ah, here comes hell
I really tried to tie those strings again
I did what I did yesterday when there was no injury
Yesterday's routine turned into today's smoking gun
Saying, gentleman, put yr hands up!
Black and red
We're already dead
I have to get out of this room
In an atmosphere this thick, I might drown
pad pad pad to the next room
I close my eyes because I wish my eyes were closed
There's hell in this one, too