I like the pain,
The pain I feel.

The pain I like best is the one I make,
The pain I make is far better than feeling the pain of others,
Of their words and of their actions.

The pain I feel,
Makes it all real.
The pain I make,
Takes it all away.

I’d rather feel my own pain,
Make my own pain,
Taste my own pain,
Than feel theirs.

So yes, while sticks and stones
And words and actions hurt me bad,
It makes me mad.

How can you get to me so?
Why does it hurt?
This pain, oh this pain,
Woe is me, woe is me,
This pain is them.

I hate their pain,
Their pain I hate.

I love my pain,
I make my pain.

Red blood falling,
Or beautiful crimson flames?

My own,
Or theirs?

The pain I feel,
Makes it all real.
The pain I make,
Takes it all away.

I hate the pain,
I loathe it,
Abhor it.

I love my pain,
I adore it,
When I feel the paroxysms
That I make,
I weep, tears of joy or of madness?

I live for my burn,
Whilst I die by theirs.

They kept me in the dark,
And so it all began.

A fingermark here,
A nail there,
A pinch here,
A poke there,
A slap here,
A cut there.

A punch here,
A pull there,
A sob here,
A scream there.

A burn,
—The burn,
——It burns.

A push,
A fall,
A look,
A scar,
A puppeteer,
A marionette.
Who are we,
Who are they?

Ignorance,
Agony,
Bend,
Break,
Glass shatters.

Pain,
Without love,
Pain,
Without love,
Pain,
I can’t get enough,
Pain:
Pain, Pain, Pain.

The middle,
The end,
The beginning?

The pain I feel,
Makes it all real.
The pain I make,
Takes it all away.

So when I die,
Will you know why?
Will you cry,
As the life leaves my eyes?

Happiness?
Sorrow?
Anger?
Death.

The start,
The finish.
One Culprit,
A victim?

Alive—
            Dead.

            Regret?
                         —Nirvana.

The pain I feel,
Makes it all real.
The pain I make
The pain I make
Takes it all away.

— Astraea L. Skylar

From The Feelings Arc

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

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