A Way To Poetry

The Hell I walk through the road                  the road is long.   I sleep on the bed                  the bed is lone. When you in the feel, It’s enough to make hell. I could not feel the hot could not feel the bad,    could no’t sad to feel Your felling throws me in hell. I step door to door, run through the path The path ends in hell, I, again live fail. I feel very clumsy, feel such alone feel such false, It makes me out of clause. Now, I am in hell And will be in hell; burn  every time  in the hell of you.