in us by birth

Pain is in our blood by nature of our birth

it surges and courses gaining speed

waiting and hoping for grand release

a knife to pink flesh

some crimson left behind

a pin prick here

a thin slit there

little outlets precede despair

sometimes dull or stinging pain

one form or another is what we gain

does it leave when our flesh is ripped open

does it leave our souls a hole to fill

are we better with it gone 

do we leave space for new pain and fear

spiritual for physical

never real contented

the raging beast tearing inside