My New Home

Normally people say roses are red,
unless they have went where I've been led.

The charcoal sky lets no light reflect,
in this world, it's far from perfect.

There is no sun, there is no light,
There is no discernment from day and night.

In some opinions, though it might sound like sin,
some might say it sounds like heaven.

But quite the opposite, what I need to tell.
Because of my sins, I am in Hell.

Not as a swear, as an actual place.
Nothing can help me, not even God's grace