PAIN



Pain is a stain 
It is that ache that has no gain 
It reminds you of the strain 
It is a drought without rain 
Your peace of mind it thus drain 
Hardly keeping you sane 
Yet pain is a train, it keeps on its track. 
It distracts and itches like a cheap crack 
It attracts misery, your senses under constant attack 
Break free. 
Leap free and flee. 
Live without the weights around your neck. 
Live free, do not wreck.




Pain is mourning 
Mourn but here is a warning 
Even when nothing seems to be working 
Even at the darkest of night 
There will be a morning! 
There will be a light 
A morning with glittering rays of sunshine 
With blessings divine 
Forget the pain, 
Let the memories of loved ones remain 
Remember the laughter 
But remember what comes after,
Life!



Pain is a train, do not keep to its tracks 
Derail 
Bail, never act so frail and in gale 
Let HIS words be your solence; 
Let the word prevail 
Pain is like a drug from quad of quacks 
Makes you sick 
Transforms your courage to a dysfunctional prick 
It is that ache, that wrinkles your heart in grief. 
It’s a thief 
It steals your security; feeds you with hopelessness. 
Help less, makes you feel the helplessness 
Pain is a stain, wash it off. 
It chains you with tact. 
Break free and stay intact.





Pain is a drought without rain 
It starves you of joyous lane 
It starves you of grain 
Keeps you empty and vain 
It keeps your pocket overturned and on drain 
Sorrow and anger plays you like a toy 
It makes you fall under its cheap ploy 
It’s chains you to its strain 
Your heart it stuffs with regret 
It threatens your accomplishments and makes you sweat 
Your better days it makes you forget 
Break free and stay free.





Pain comes at different guises 
Happiness it despises 
Wages war like Hussein 
Seizes your gain 
It exploits like the boss, 
Nails you to your own cross 
Wipes away your gloss 
It drowns you in the pool of your loss 
Gives you flashes of a bleak tomorrow 
Makes you borrow and sorrow 
Reminds you of your failure 
Lures you to the dusty floors 
And takes you from the back,raw 
Leaves you sour and sore 
Your defeat it explores and whores 
Stand! 
Break free and make a stand.




Pain is that sickle that harvests weeds 
It sows no better seed 
It hardly breeds but bleed 
Scattered on the field, dubious with mislead 
It kill your dreams with thorns to never secede 
Nor succeed 
Indeed, pain is a stampede 
Remind yourself you are God’s miracle 
Turn your obstacle to a spectacle 
Be His oracle.

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