My pain sits on my shoulder, clings to my neck
and sings stories of years that defined me.
How it had no one else but me.
It was so fierce, yet so fragile.
I felt the urge to protect it.
From anything. From everything.
I wanted to protect it from every cure.
I wanted it to be with me. To be a part of me.
I felt I would be a little less me
if it left my body.
I didn’t mind this pain decaying my body.
I didn’t mind it’s echoing cries and lament.
I just wanted it to be there always.
But when pain decided to leave me,
I felt that life has left my body.
I cried realizing that it was never a part of me.
I don’t think I cried cause I missed pain.
I cried for there is nothing in my life I can be sure of.
Not even pain.