Pain

Just a little frusturated.

There is a terrible thing.

It is inside of me.

Sharpness of sting,

Pain as far as I can see.

 

No fear.

Not sad.

No tear.

Not mad.

 

But it throbs.

Still and striking.

Bringing the sobs,

Not to my liking.

 

I feel as though

There is no worse.

No end to woe,

This dreaded curse.

 

My heavy heart,

My tears of rue.

A staring art

I've not a clue.

 

The petty smile

That hides my fate,

All the while,

Is all too late.

 

The pain inside,

The ache and burn,

All aside,

Soon your turn.