Pain is not the thing we all fear,
For everyone knows a cut will heal.
But when A knife cuts partially deep, red blood begins to seep.
The red taint then imprints a speckle of fear,
Even if it never brought us to tears.
Yet time passes, and in our emotions,
that speck is no longer clear.
It's been caught by the monster
That allows you to ponder
exists more dangers,
in the creases of our imaginations.
We pull up a curtain on that thing.
Slam the door
shut out what it might bring.
But there, the thought stews.
A scratch, is a cut, a cut scratch,
cut to slash
Slash to the loss of the bold you'll never get back.
Too afraid, a monster will attack and bring the fear back.
Pain is not the thing we fear.
We fear ourselves, and the thoughts that we keep.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry Of All Sorts
Poésie- Book One Of My Poetry Series - Throughout life we morph and change depending on the things we see and the experiences we exchange. Poetry has been my refuge whilst taking on the small battlefields of adolescents. So I give to you, the beating h...
