The day flows on
even in the most basic ways
when we have the best of our days
there is still the pain

It radiates and rises from the pores
when we are uninjured
but who among us is ever truly
unhurt?

At my best I rise and fall
in various states of anger
angst
bitterness

I cannot recall the last peaceful day
a day without pain
be it the pain of the mind
or the ache of the body
the first because of the latter

Yet it doesn’t seem to matter
what is done
or undone
it remains and I remain
two enemies trapped together
my Pain and I
like two bitter foes who’ve been at struggle
so long
they couldn’t understand a day alone
without the other