The sad truth of pain, is all of it is self-created,
response, rejection and blame
much of the circumstances of consequence,
and no matter how we vent, get angry, play the victim,
it all comes back to us: we did this to ourselves.
Often I sit in confusion,
wave after wave of oppressive thought
pounding against my reason,
and the pain I suffer, the knowing in my heart
that tells me I am to blame, simply escalates.
I often walk the line between a wanted oblivion
and the comfort of insanity,
where none of my knowing, my insight,
reveals the painful truths that so plague my empathetic mind,
and I think wouldn’t ignorance be bliss.
Some days the pain is so excruciating,
I cannot live within my skin,
each nerve scraped by a dull blade,
sending fear at its edge of being, to settle upon my soul,
to sear my flesh and antagonize my mind.
I have no doubt, the religious hell is here,
nowhere else, and I can attest its slender line,
its one step away sign of being, when life in all its complexity
rises up to well from the brain, and in spilling,
renders each thought and realization, moot.
Suffer we do, and the more insane,
the more open our soul to the pealing away of lifetimes of hurt,
lessons that have torn our souls apart, for all we are,
potential and predilections burned,
embers glowing from crusted flesh, in a state of neglect.
The trick is to rise above the pain, accept it,
to see it less and ride the wave,
and just when you can’t take any more, be done with it,
and restore the balance, the potential to be whole again
to see beyond the stench of burning flesh.
I live between the two, from lows to highs my undulations,
but never forget the pain, for it reminds me of this plain, this life,
where like pebbles we are tossed in the currents,
taunted by our own gift of reason and free will,
to squirm like an amoeba, striving to be something more.
Tony DeLorger © 2018
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