Poetry English

The memory of pain

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2-15_pain

The memory of pain,

is a sharp blade,

cutting the skin

Not too much blood,

enough to expose the nerves

The naked nerves kiss the air;

and writhe in deadly agony

 

The memory of pain,

is walking laboriously,

on the dark road of regret

Each step, a burdensome effort,

unwilling to toil ahead

The tired feet drag along;

raising the dust clouds of guilt

 

The memory of pain,

is smelling deeply,

the stinging smell of anguish

Each breath burns the lungs,

each breath scalds the heart

But the body breathes on;

the soul the eternal victim

 

 

The memory of pain,

is an unwanted stench,

assaulting the senses

Each fume, a poisonous exposure,

each fume, a torturous encounter

But the smell keeps on assaulting;

the conscience welcomes it

 

 

The memory of pain,

is what keeps some alive;

and aware of life

Each day, a call for salvation,

each day, expecting damnation

The soul’ barely able to survive;

while understanding thrives

 

 

 

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  1. “The memory of pain,
    is what keeps some alive;
    and aware of life
    Each day, a call for salvation,
    each day, expecting damnation
    The soul’ barely able to survive;
    while understanding thrives”

    Right on the money..!!

    And in the aftermath… indeed…
    it is a laborious walk of regret…
    An unwilling burdensome effort,
    to really want to go anywhere…
    or want anything anymore…
    Aah the guilt… Off letting it get to this…
    Tired is the soul…
    What does it all even matter anymore…
    Now… Here… Today… Tomorrow…
    Who cares…

    Reply

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