Poem 83

Beauty is just as much in pain
As it IS pain
Stained sloppily in my bed sheets
And etched deep into my slender feet
Bleak is a life that fails to see the rainbows through the rain
Ethereal flames beauty rising slowly over condemningly dark horizons
Eyes on darker things never trained on the "could be's" and beauties of the world
Hurled just like the rest of us into this blink of an existence
Instances making or breaking entire personal journeys
Gurneys stacked chest high with dreams and bodies colored in sadness and morow's travesties

But it is down such a slippery slope that we cannot allow ourselves to tumble

As one man once said

Suffering is Joy unmasked

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