on-pain

When you feel hurt, remember that day you were never asked, you were never called When people near you basked, in a light that seemed to take all it all; from your eyes, and ping your ears, listening to their glorious fame and hanging your head in shame.

Death will come and take them away like any other in the fields of hay or daffodils, or dandelions or rye he doesn’t seem to care about the place you reside

Pain, dear you are to the mind. I didn’t realise, I cried. I thought I was being left behind, lost in the light of the others beside. Now when I feel hurt I remember that remembrance is small and so is to be free, I may not be enough, but I am enough to be me