It’s always been this way,
Time and time again,
“Asking for a friend,”
Asking for a tightrope
That you
Cannot reach.
Pain is the
Epitome
Of man,
Of life,
Of being.
And
You know
What is
Must be.
Grief is an
Unwavering power
That feeds and drains
And bleeds the
pain it
Sows it in the soul,
Unyielding,
Yet untold.
Unnoticed and
Silenced;
The hour goes by,
Still silenced.
Reality
Is
That it’s always there,
And yet only here
When the heart is
Ready
To
Be.
Oct 19, 2025
Oct 19, 2025 at 10:49 PM UTC
It’s always been this way,
Time and time again,
“Asking for a friend,”
Asking for a tightrope
That you
Cannot reach.
Pain is the
Epitome
Of man,
Of life,
Of being.
And
You know
What is
Must be.
Grief is an
Unwavering power
That feeds and drains
And bleeds the
pain it
Sows it in the soul,
Unyielding,
Yet untold.
Unnoticed and
Silenced;
The hour goes by,
Still silenced.
Reality
Is
That it’s always there,
And yet only here
When the heart is
Ready
To
Be.
Request permission to use this poem