Pain is a strange companion, according to Charlotte
Bronte pain is a scorpion to be squeezed in the hand
until it goes numb so as to deaden the pain that does
not go away by itself
Doesn’t matter how I order my life, I have to traverse
cycles of pain, for energy we have to eat, when I eat
I am ill, when I don’t the pain goes away, as well as
the power to survive
Balancing between waxing and waning cycles of pain,
we chose our lives before we were born, my soul chose
suffering to understand life, the pain of people who seem
so arrogant
But underneath hearts are burning with feelings aflame,
emotions sprouting from scarring thoughts destroying
perspective and life, bewildered eyes chilling my soul,
hardened mouths
Turned into stone, ostensibly people are active and happy,
but underneath they are shrinking away, assigning blame in
loathing of self and rejection of life, seeking compensation in
passing on pain
To the next one in line…
Margaret Alice
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/passing-on-pain-to-the-next-one-in-line-5-17-2008/
