The worst kind of pain
is not what you experience head-on,
but what scrapes at you, indirect
hits aimed for someone else.
An arrow may hit a bullseye
after barely missing a tree.
The arrow is sadness.
It hits one person, then those connected
feel the sting. Its target,
was it the tree or the bullseye?
The tree, barely hit,
was the target. The bullseye
the main sufferer, for it can’t take
seeing friends weak.
It absorbs its own shock,
pain inflicted upon herself,
the universe srtiking down on her.
It cracks under suffering from
the people who mean the most,
who mean more to her than
her own self.
Chop her down, carve her out,
paint a single dot on her heart,
and hang her up on another tree.
She feels nothing until she’s hit
By the pain meant for the tree
Behind her.
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 9:52 PM UTC
The worst kind of pain
is not what you experience head-on,
but what scrapes at you, indirect
hits aimed for someone else.
An arrow may hit a bullseye
after barely missing a tree.
The arrow is sadness.
It hits one person, then those connected
feel the sting. Its target,
was it the tree or the bullseye?
The tree, barely hit,
was the target. The bullseye
the main sufferer, for it can’t take
seeing friends weak.
It absorbs its own shock,
pain inflicted upon herself,
the universe srtiking down on her.
It cracks under suffering from
the people who mean the most,
who mean more to her than
her own self.
Chop her down, carve her out,
paint a single dot on her heart,
and hang her up on another tree.
She feels nothing until she’s hit
By the pain meant for the tree
Behind her.
I wrote this in 2013, back when my friends were experiencing hard times and I couldn't help in any way. One of my favourite personal pieces.