Poetry of pain

These pains from my body and those in my mind,
They hurt and they’re wearing are these pains that I’m bearing,
They play bad with my body and worse with my mind

They wax and they wane do these pains that’s so hurting,
They’re bad in the daylight and hell through night-time

No sleep for the gentle is all in its power,
No peace for the wicked just pain in the mind
Just like some jokester who plays through the night

To dull that is hurting is good for a while,
But pain always wins long after I smile.

You can sleep with some pain, I can lie about the same,
But pain knows your weakness as its cruel and its vain.

When pain wins at last I will know a release,
For the last thing I’ll know is I’ll sleep well at peace.

So cry not that day those who know me of old,
It’s no time for sadness just a time to behold

This boy’s gone to better, no pain and no dreams,
Just nothing, and that’s fine.

Paul Gray

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6 Responses to Poetry of pain

  1. Exquisite. Simply exquisite. You’re also a poet? Shocker.

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