Pain comes in different forms and degrees and possibly moulds us -- along with other factors -- into who we are.
This is a poem about how pain feels to me.
PAIN
I've felt the pain
Of the rose
When it could no longer
Be called a bud
Of the rose
When it could no longer
Be called a bud
The sadness of the tree
When its trunk
Bent in the wind
When its trunk
Bent in the wind
The yielding of the moon
When the
clouds had their way
The grieving of the skin
At the loss of your touch
At the loss of your touch
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