Pain Is.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Much as we forget so often, there is one pain that cuts deeper than anything that could happen to ourselves - what happens to others.

Submitted: July 21, 2009

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Submitted: July 21, 2009

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Pain is the hypnotic drip

of scarlet red ink

as it runs down a silenced palm.

Pain is the image of fear

on the crystalline, placid face

of an overly-trustful friend.

Pain is the streaking paths

left by the oveans in her eyes

after the tempest has hit.

Pain is the greedy sword

that aims at the lives of others

but hits the heart of the yielder.


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