Is it Heaven or Hell?

laying on stones baking naked
aiming aimless shaking painless
trapped in cages, life is dangerous
I'm faking changes
waking to pages
working for wages
making the payments
forced to take this
because

paper bills can buy my knives
I can kill me
yet this paper can't buy my life
when it builds me
yes words mean nothing
that's why I might
let go and work judging people based on body type
I'm shifting..
but does it matter like it matters on the roads
I'm thinking..

Over thinking? yes perhaps this makes no sense
but it's simple, like tieing a shoe or lacing a belt
you could never be high enough so instead
we use the green or the medicines of crystal meth
to get, the impression of success, crystals and gems
when it's simply a whistle to death

But I'm not prepared to die
because I believe in dreams
yet I can't survive
I'm sick in grieve
I'm not surprised

just confused nothing to do in hell
but take the time to accept and strive to be well
but I cry in my sell because I don't appreciate my wealth
so I hate myself because;

I'm sleeping surrounded by the devil
and my mental level is like wondering rebels
I'm sauntering for pebbles
possibly petals out of dirt and bevels
of hurt it's stressful..

Written by Esra Chebli