"Does it ever stop hurting?"

No, I'm afraid not.

Broken frames of deteriorating people
Walk along the side of the road
Praying for someone to crash their car
Into the hollowness of their chest

And we breathe the same air as everyone else
Oxygen in,
Carbon dioxide out,
But we know it's different
Nothing we exhale will ever have a soft touch
On the earth

People walk,
We stomp

There's a seeking inside our souls
For something irrevocable
But people are known for their fleeting
As we are known for our sorrow

"Does it ever stop hurting?"

No,
The bleeding will never end.