Pain

The cruellest of masters
Is harsh, relentless pain -
An invisible beast,
Be it lasting or transient.
The suffering it provokes
Is plain inhumane,
As it gleefully tortures us
For its own amusement.

Defenceless and powerless
We are, as pain's playthings;
As we struggle and writhe,
We're screaming and kicking.
Beneath a blanket of
Agony that bites and stings,
Our bodies are zapping;
They're jerking and cricking.

Whether our hurt be
Physical or emotional,
Pain grasps us tightly
Within its frigid hands
And manipulates us like putty -
Finding it comical.
We become its prisoner;
Puppets to its demands.

The pain of flesh ripping,
Of burning, and tearing;
The emotional ache of knowing
Or that of not knowing;
The throbbing of bones, bruising,
Grating and fracturing;
The anguish of losing,
Leaving, grieving or growing -

No matter what the cause may be,
Pain toys with us and wears us down.
It erodes us, as waves do
To the rugged coastlines,
But faster, and with far greater
Levels of violence shown.
Pain has no mercy, and upon
Our suffering, it hungrily dines.

However, this foul beast
Is not unbeatable;
And it can't claim to have conquered
Our entire being -
For our bravely fighting back
Is inevitable.
Our resolve will eventually
See the pain beast fleeing.

You see, pain may think that
It has the upper hand here,
But it far underestimates
Our strength and resilience.
In the day to day battle,
It is really quite clear
That pain cannot compete with
A human's inner brilliance.