Mine.

This pain is mine
-and mine alone.

This exquisite agony
Is everything,

And nothing.

Joy is shared,
But this pain-

This exquisite agony
Is mine.

And mine alone.

It is my badge
And I clutch it to my heart

Where it rips
And tears

And bleeds.

Joy is shared
This pain is mine.

Hiding, returning,
Never fully
Out
Of
Sight…

This pain

This exquisite agony,
Is mine alone,

And I treasure it,
Like a dark light

Writhing, curling.

I treasure it,
This perfect pain

Because it carved and cut and molded
-it made me

Who I am.


This one was written several years ago, when it struck me how pain can shape the people we become and that sometimes, those people are stronger than they ever were before.

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