It was misery, sweet misery,
With its dark, gloomy clouds
That brought the flood of tears
That cleansed the raw, weathered
Crags etched on my face by
Yesterday’s eroding, bitter memories.
It was irony, sweet irony,
That removed its painted mask,
Revealing the stark madness
Of a reality that never was,
Or ever will be, what
It first appeared to be.
It was pain, sweet pain,
With its burning, searing insistence
That only through suffering
Can one find the Way that
Lead to my release from
The hurt and the agony.
Sweet misery, irony, and a
Not so sour pain;
Sweet, but only to my tastes.