Little by little it goes away
Sometimes it hurts less
Other times it hurts more
But what really is pain?
Can it be described?

Cloaked in cowardice
by nights events imparted.
Regret soon filled her heaving breast
and stirred the rising pain.

Pain was the blood that
gushed in her ears.
Pain is the the torture that stalked
her for years.
Pain was the chemical rushing
through her veins.
Pain was the false crime
that put her in chains.

Looking in the mirror at her scars
Regretting it all
Not loving herself for who she really is
Feeling like the whole world is against her
Crying when nobody can hear
And faking a smile pretending it’s all okay

Pain is temperory,
Pain is not weak.
Pain is what we carry
When our mind reaches peek.
If there’s pain, there’s healing
When there’s no more pain
We reach a stronger feeling.

To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.