Between dreamless sleep

A cut ,a rip,

a scrape ,a nip.

Hurts and burns,

sobs and yelps

tinctures,antiseptics,

lotions and creams.

 

Such is the beauty -

of time that runs its course.

as if to prove the existence

of their source-

scars,a few too many remain

such is the beauty-

of the psyche

to wish away the pain.

Little matters then,

if it was a knife

that pierced

or words of venom,

the damage was done.

who lost the battle

and who had won.

a lonely war rages on

with the inner demon.

A wise mind forgets

so time could heal

And burdens not the soul,

with only the wisdom to deal

for a naught it will come to be

as no pain is forever, you shall see.