The Pursuit Of Pain

Perhaps pain is hated by many

Perhaps feared by some

And perhaps, for some, not a bother

As constant as the day is glum

Beauty is pain and pain is beauty

In this evil, wide kingdom

From solitude develops loneliness

And from loneliness, sadness apart

So forth, you become the hostess

To the pain from which stems art

Beauty is pain and pain is beauty

As it lives within each heart

The one who hasn’t felt this hurt

Must be somewhat of an emotional handicap

A blunt sword against the war of the world

Shall be hit by a sudden mighty slap

Beauty is pain and pain is beauty

As is on your door a rhythmic rap

And even if ‘pain hath no hand on me’

It may, of course, pertain

A, maybe, sense of emptiness

Guaranteed to drive one insane

Beauty is pain and pain is beauty

Only you shall it maintain

‘Clothes maketh man’, they say

Kind sir, I beg to differ

Mother nature facing much toil

And toil is what did grip her

Beauty is pain and pain is beauty

The lack making our hearts grow stiffer

Remains there a lot left to say

But to say is not a requirement

For you understand that

Only from experience does emerge strength

Beauty is pain and pain is beauty

And that’s all to say is my intent