Just Pain

Life's humdrum equates with pain; would sharing it lessen the downheartedness? Does that seem to shatter my whole being? I wonder, in a world's picture gallery, see paintings from all over the globe: there, look at that, hanging on the wall, a screaming mother who lost her child, baby's legs, a pair of matchsticks, hunger pangs never satiated, only pitied; And there, yes, over there, blind beggar buffeted in the street, homeless living in a disused concrete tube, storms that drown the village homes, old valued furniture ruined beyond repair, lifeless body murdered in the lea, a woman raped to satiate a beast. An uninsured, sick man refused all aid. But occasionally, a few good souls Offer a bowl of hot, tasty pumpkin soup.