Souls lying on the ground saturated
Of anguish, hurt, lovelessness, or more.
Thanking God one especially matter,
In which agony never brooded blood or gore
From its own existence.  In my eyes though,
Wishing to take pain unto my core
Because a bit more than what's there
Never really matters if it knocks on my door.

Do dwell on the past pain,
It's part of the game
To plan for the future.