Pain
Pain can cut and scathe,
And go beneath the deepest waves.
It shows our anger,
While proving we have survived.
Yet, this feeling,
Is hated and held so dear.
For those who tread without fear,
Will find this feeling most everywhere.
They will seek out pain,
And show it to the grave.
They will carry it upon their soul,
In chains and scars that shall not heal.
Pain spares nothing,
Mercy is not to be found.
For it lies low,
'Til you are buried in hallowed ground.
Copyright © Madeline Eustice | Year Posted 2015
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