Knocking on Hell's Door

There are times that I feel weak in choosing which path to take,
each moment that I choose to live can become a gift or a mistake.

Controlled by my desire to make this life a better place,
my canvas cries tears of shame,
for what I have painted is a disgrace.

Chiselled by my guilt I walk in shame,
for my arrogance covers my soul,
for which I cannot hate,
how many times will I fall and hope it's not too late,
for you to save me as I slip through your hands of grace.

The end I see is lying await,
is a door made of pain and carved in shame,
eyes shut now as they burn with fire,
of a desireless man who's caught in the myer.

As I get to the door I give a knock,
in hope to walk away from the door unlocks.
A cold stern voice that I cannot tell,
says to me "hello friend, welcome to hell".

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