Here’s a poem I wrote June 2nd, 2014, when my physical state was a more painful than now. My current life is far superior in regards to the pain aspect, but there are sad things in it that I don’t want to think of, so I’m zooming backwards a moment. Here it is, entitled “An incredibly depressing compilation of words about pain”, catchy, eh?
One drop of pain,
but it just keeps dripping,
and sometimes all I want to do
is stab it with a knife, just kill it and make it dull,
and end the pain,
override it with new pain,
make it leave my system entirely,
because how can it still be sensing pain that isn’t there?
Other times I forget that it’s there.
Life distracts you.
Then you start to think you complain too much, but later you’re back to wanting to violently attack the pain away, and you can’t, and it won’t go.
It seems to only come back when you’ve started to try to live your life again.
When you try to ignore it.
Because you’re too tired of walking on eggshells to keep its temper
Too tired of hiding by yourself.
You just want to fight.
Be happy and alive.
Then it beats you down and you’re alone again.
With the dripping pain.
Too weak to fight it.
Too weak to live your life.
It hurts and you just let it hurt.
Eventually it will stop.
Because everything stops.
In the meantime you’re just hoping.
Hoping and hurting.
Living your life the only way you know how, and waiting for the pain to die, so you can live.
What’s pain anyway?