Algiatry

When hurt is embedded, so deeply within how does one remove it, where do they begin? The decay begins slowly, when a life starts a-rotting and it cannot be changed by planning or plotting It's not be chased, nor coaxed from it's lair, not left to escape and vanish into thin air It can't be extinguished as a fire with a blanket, nor hammered into shape like coins with a planchet It can't be wiped as from the eye like a mote, or scraped like a barnacle from the hull of a boat It cannot be pulled from the soul like a cord or hewn as a rope by the blade of a sword It can't be excised like a malignant lump, nor can it be carted away to the dump It can only be moved with love and compassion, with time and with care, there is no other fashion