I can’t tell when I fell down the well,
but I’m stuck with The Devil in Hell.
I would crawl up the walls but alas,
they were cut from impassable glass.
He’s so happy I’m trapped down this hole,
a chance windfall for him to control,
on a drip-feed of fear and despair,
he delights as I tear out my hair.
I refuse to abandon all hope,
so I use my old hair to make rope,
and old toe nails to fashion a hook.
I grow more in the time that it took.
One night soon when The Devil’s asleep,
I’ll climb up without making a peep.
Once I finish that joyous ascent,
I’ll come back with a truck of cement.