Synapses are firing,
The pain is being processed,
Where has it started?
Endorphins are released,
The pain killer is searching for the source.
How silly, this system,
It cannot recognize this kind of pain,
The source is not inside,
but outside,
The source is all around me,
The pain of humanity,
and no amount of vicodin,
or endorphins,
Can stop it,
or calm it.
It is there, infinite,
Consuming me.
I am silent in this moment,
As I use all my senses to quiet the world,
I force myself back into my body.
There, I can believe, in only myself.
There, I can ignore,
The pain.