Upwelling

Pain
So crude a word,
So apt.
That soft, silent bubble,
That expands within the chest,
Pushing away all other emotions
And creating the cursed upsurge of tears

Pain,
Crude it will remain

The retreating of a Waterfall
Of feelings gone that come,
Not in the little bits that reality fed me
Not like those tiny shocks that,
Realisation,
My soul was alive.
But as a whole, mangled wreckage.

But the beauty of it,
The fermentation of old old emotions
And now the sip
Of the potent draught
And the hallucination breaks

Mistakes! Mistakes!
And then regret,
Tears for the could have
Anger for the should
Hope, now
Strength,
For the Will (to) Be.

-Paul Victor


Dedicated to my brethren of 41B, Each with lips, capable of kissing scars.My apologies to Mr Sam la Rose.