The 10th Circle of Hell

I am convinced there exists a tenth circle of hell,

not for the wicked,

but for the wounded.

For the depressed,

for the fractured,

for those carrying pain

like a knife in the chest.

A tenth circle,

reserved for the anti-social,

for whom a smile

splits the face like a fissure in dry earth.

This tenth circle is the particular damnation

of sitting still,

aching,

and hollow

while someone fills the air

for thirty minutes,

about their trip

to Disneyland.