The Delimma

 Where darkness stains our souls,

There lies a tapestry, pain unfolds.

In threads of sorrow, we're entwined,

Where destiny and anguish seem aligned.

Oh, the hand of fate, a cruel mistress fair,

She weaves the fabric of our despair.

Through trials endured and battles fought,

Pain's presence graces every thought.

In heartaches deep, like thunder's roar,

We question life, we yearn for more.

Yet destiny whispers with a wistful voice,

Pain's existence, our ultimate choice.

For in pain's embrace, we learn to grow,

To rise above the ashes, to bloom and glow.

It molds and shapes us, like a sculptor's hand,

Crafting resilience, a strength that will withstand.

Through trials, we forge a spirit unbroken,

Unwavering, as fate's hand remains unspoken.

For our journey is not the cards we're dealt,

But the unyielding spirit and heart we've felt.

So let not pain define our souls' fate,

Instead, let it be the catalyst to create.

To find solace in the darkest of nights,

To paint resilience with vibrant lights.

For pain may linger, but it does not own,

The chapters written, the seeds we've sown.

Through twists and turns, our paths may bend,

But our fate is determined by how we mend.

So, embrace pain's lessons, its bitter art,

For in its depths, lies the strength to restart.

And as we navigate life's twisting state,

May we find solace in pain's tapestry of fate.