Prose

Pain

written by: KamealliamG

Pain, that which one can not run from. Those scars which just do not heal. They form red, deep wounds on one's heart, and the pierce with a great deal of force, to the depths of one's whole heart. The tears which form on your face are just a mask for the true hurt that mounts from the pit of the dark red heart, a sharp stab in your chest. You can't breathe. You choke. You feel sweat drops on your head, but you know that you can do zilch. You can't ease the pain. You can't heal the wounds. The words which a friend or a spouse can say, pierce worse than one can dream of. Your fears take the lead, and you walk with no dream. Your eyes are veiled by your pain; fear shields your heart; your mind, tight in pain's grasp, and there is no hope of being free.

Your life is one big show, all you can do is sit back and watch it fall. It falls, down to the pits of the well; down to the depths of the earth's crust. It burns. It stings. It glows, just so bright that you burn, and the whole of you turns to crisp, dark, black, burnt ash. And you crash. Crash down hard on what's left of this world. You doubt. You feel low. You feel that there is not a thing which can be done to melt this pain, there is not a thing which can be done which will mend your heart and bring it back to it's new born state--with no flaws or tears, no loose bolts.

All that you've worked for, all that you put your heart in, have turned in to gunk. Glue did not work; band aid was no help. You just can't fix pain.

It's what all of us hate; it's what all of us feel; it's what all of us run from; but it's what tags and spreads like a fire. A fire which burns dry grass. A fire which spreads in the wild, even the sea could not put it out. Not a thing, I say, not a thing can put out the fire of pain. Not a thing, I say, not a thing, can drive out the hurt, heal the scars, stop the tear-flow, clog the blood, clean the wounds, or numb the pain.

Pain--what all of us fear, and try to hide from; the the force of it just brings you down, and it's hand clasps with such might that to break free would only cause more pain. Pain, the cause of all fear and cold. To kill it would just kill you.

You can run, but you can't hide. They say "Bear in mind, your sins will find you out," but no, "Bear in mind, your pain will find you out."