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