Day 10 of 30 Days of Poetry

Close-up of a rusted scratch on a steel plate, looking like torn skin
Now, Hell is other people,
So the deepest thinkers say,
Or else eternal torment
Lies beyond your dying day

With lakes of burning brimstone
Where inhuman demons play,
Your unfulfilled temptations
Used to tease, then put away.

But Hell for me is living
With this knowledge every day:
I can't rewrite what happened,
Past mistakes are here to stay.

If only I had been there
When instead I went away.
My punishment is certain:
I inflict it every day.

Who needs infernal demons
When her own soul she can flay?
I deserve this pain I feel
For the trust I did betray.