Photo by alan bajura on Unsplash
Pain teaches us about ourselves
It strips away our costumes
Leaves us raw to the wind
Like “Poor Tom” standing naked in a cave
With a lunatic king
My thoughts are barren, sharp
Honest as ice
Cauterizing the cancerous soul
And then from your face
A higher love
A ray of sunlight that cocoons me
And beckons metamorphosis
Emerging from the darkness
Pain has painted my wings
I rise effortlessly on the morning breeze
Floating on the promise of spring
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About the Creator
Mike Ball
Mike Ball has recently started self-publishing short stories and longer work fiction. He is excited about exploring new publications and seeks your response to these first efforts. Bon Appetit!
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