Chronic Pain


Do you ever feel like you are made of glass—

Ever trying to reflect the sumptuous nature of the light

Scratched but not yet broken

On the brink of shattering into far too many pieces to reconstruct you


Ever in sight

Others ever cautious—waiting,

Poised ready for the inevitable while prizing your luster, your strength


Remaining composed despite all

Desperately grasping the solid ground

Tiptoeing as to preserve the pain


Closing your desolate, grieving eyes

Smiling in the moment—

Living not quite to the fullest,

But to the absolute in your potential, your ability


Your will to leave your mark, your footprint—

All while feeling the frail, fragile, suffering fault lines bend near their empty void


The heart—

The strongest muscle in the body,

Must have the youthful innocence to drive, to propel forward


Despite any looming threats or fears


It is not ideal,

But it is not impossible—

To prevail in a tumultuous world,

Seared more than burned,

Stuck in a fragile casing

Meant to support your beauty


Kindle, care, and be loved


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