There's an eternal beauty in pain,
A pre ordination of fate and singularity,
That of an already known familiarity.
Depth, breadth, length-measured once again.

One can easily transcribe the ongoing extermination,
Shadowed lines of a heart once kept,
Bruises unseen tears still to be wept,
Unbeknown lesions on a x-ray - a final ablution.

Once passed pain lives on unknowingly,
A silenced hurt now that one cannot flee,
Bequeathed anew as a breathing barrier,
Until maturity poisons - leaving one a carrier.

I thought the only beauty in pain,
	Was the never present waiting,
		The final perfect ensuring,   
			That the pain
				Will die,
					Always,
						As one with me.