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Pure pain upon a page
Behind this pale facade of flesh
Seething and roiling, pain swells
Held beneath the placid surface
Only because the game has been played
So long as to become second nature.
The last remaining piece of a true,
Loving, caring heart, crushed by
The wicked grip of what for so long
Was it's closest, at times
It's only companion.
Steeled against every other attacker
Able to withstand anything
Thrown it's way... That last
Delicate chunk of once so big a heart
Was caught up without warning.
Dashed against the very essence of
It's reason for existing and
Hurled carelessly away.
Pain such as this should never
In any creature be felt.
The existence of such a deep
And harmful thing in itself
Compares to nothing within
The human bounds of sense.
It is like a cut
An amputation as it were
From the very soul of me.
As if someone had reached in
And cut away the only thing
Holding me to my life.
And now I grasp desperately
For that simple thread
That one grain of sand
That held my world in place.
Without it I am lost,
Torn asunder in the storms
Of a world far too great to
Notice the loss of one
Sad and lonely,
Forgotten and betrayed,
Minuscule failure of life.
