Pain

Let my pain grow older and wiser,
When the death knell tolls,
I will built a coffin for her,
To be in solace,
To descend and not to levitate,
Because I sneeze pain,
I hear pain, I touch pain, and I walk pain.
I hear pain from
Deep down the abyss of hell,
Producing cries of unknown.
I see my body giving birth to uncanny prickles,
I touch the warm waters that gifted me blisters.
From the dark corners of beautiful gardens,
I see eyes of pain with beckoning signs.
When too much of fakeness engulfs my existence,
I see Pain commuting in public bus,
Looking out at the old footpaths.
Pain clutches tightly to the windows
Of the young widow,
with one week of nuptial happiness.
Pain borns when rain rapes the land,
Heavily pouring down in red and yellow.
Pain takes the form of old abandoned toy in the cellar,
Trying to get free of the dust.
The flowers of unrequited love in multiple pockets cry out in pain.
And when summer gets murdered by autumn, pain falls down from ashoka trees.
Sometimes,
Really many times,
I embrace pain and squeeze it,
Till it suffocates.
Because,
When pain is loved, it loves us back.

A.C