Hell’s Paradise

a poem by Andre Joseph

To desire, to wish, to want, to dream.
At what cost, who’s lost, what means?
History tells a tale so true,
If I take too much someone suffers but who?
If it’s you it’s me, though you were blind to see,
there is no I in me, no the, in we.
So all of my sleeping pleasure become earthly needs,
and from earthly needs to devilish seeds.
Good deeds with wrong intentions even lose their valour,
in certain matters, they shatter.
“Hells paradise,” simple and plain,
your dread of lost is another mans dream of gain.