Walking into the Pain Willingly

I am writing this, after helping a friend (and continually thinking about this), a dear friend, even though doing so is killing my inside. Hurts me, pains me, makes everything harder. But I do it, continue to do it, and do it willingly. Despite the pain it brings.


The pain, here it comes, here I bring it.
Stepping on fire, that you know is there,
Pressing a knife to your head, as the pain drips down your side.

Yet I do this willingly.

The aspect of unending care, to help those, even as it pierces your soul,
Makes every day harder, more painful.

Yet I do this willingly.

It opens you up, yet you cannot find what’s wrong,
Cannot see what compels you to walk into this pain willingly.
This is a side no one sees
The problems of being ‘nice’; a façade everyone falls for.

Like walking around, with a knife pressed to your temple,
One that no one else can see.
That you show no one,
But it’s always there

Yet I do this willingly.

A simple Facebook message,
A song playing on the radio
Sight of a person
The mention of a name
The help you give to someone dear

Yet the pain.
It continues.
It hurts.
No one else can see.
You can see.
You can feel.

Yet I do this willingly.

Hiding the Pain Behind a Face

Hiding the pain behind a face,
Sparing others, inflicting more upon oneself.

Throwing oneself under a sea of emotion, to the point of drowning,
Keeping the pain from others.

Hurting oneself, sparing others.

No one will understand.
No one can understand.

Being in a hurricane of emotions, others look in oblivious.

Oblivious? Because of the veneer of the face.
The veneer of happiness and kindness.

A front to hide the turmoil within.

Taking more pain upon oneself, to spare the pain on others.

Roping in the Rage

Roping in the rage,
That’s what it’s all about,
Tying a noose round the persona of rage,
Choking the life out of the rage.

Till it recedes into the darkness of the mind.

Roping in the rage.
The need for control,
Locking up the monster inside,
Never feeling like a ‘self’,
Instead only feeling like a cage to lock up the beast inside.


The confusion,
The rage,
The anger,
The pain,
The need to rope in the rage.

Delaying the inevitable;
The walls break down,
The cage breaks open,
The time of reckoning is about to come.

Let us hope that roping in the rage is sufficient.

We know it isn’t.

We know it won’t last.

A Time of Ends

A last breath exhaled,
The last ring of a bell,
The unrest of the mind.

That is what marks a time of end approaches,

When the wind stops blowing
The grass ceases growing
The time slows to a halt,
That is when a time of ends comes near.

All things come to an end, that is how the world works.

Maybe it’s time to let go and embrace… The time of ends


One of the worst feelings there are,
To feel unwanted,
A waste of space,
Useless in all the tiniest aspects,
Worthless, useless, insignificant.

All words to describe the pains of life,
To describe the lack of love, compassion, and understanding.

Will this change?
How can this change?
Or is a change merely awaited in hope, never to become a reality?

It may be better to live a lie of hope than a truth of sorrow