Pain- A Poem

Through these streets I must pass
Carrying nothing but winter in my yearning heart
The pale, crisp white sunshine
Where dew-covered leaves shimmer like silver
And luck is flowing through the veins of the cold, still air

I feel those sobs erupt against my chest
From somewhere within me, I forget the folds of the world
Because this yearning is so strong, so jarred, so crooked
It cannot be stolen, it cannot even be untangled
It can only be drawn in the air, my hand an invisible finger

I sleep alone, curl my bare ankles around the sliver of a blanket
I sing alone, feeling a constriction form deep inside me
I feel red hot, unbent, unbroken
What is life without pain, pain without darkness?
Only absolute, utter insanity is worth the flow

I am intoxicated on something so brilliantly full of depth
That I can plunge inside a rut on the road and never come back out again
So what if it is rain-fed, infested, reeking of ugliness
It is true to the forms pain can and should and will take
So when I clasp my hand around that symphony, it rings dead

You’ll feel the cold sunlight too
Just stare long and hard into the breaking dawn
I pick at the moths that litter twilight but the morning is pure and senile
It is the beginning of fresh bouts of uncontrolled, untamed pain
It is a study in scarlet, the eruption of a bosom’s self-demolishing agony.

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