Pain Is Plural

I see my mem’ries of the day

With spoken words I’ve ceased to say

Reflecting on the sights of what I saw and could not do

What I saw and could not fight

What I saw and never knew

Why could I never try to

Meet the call and give a light

Take my flight or solve a plight

Already time is passing by

On wings of eagles that will not fly

Wings that beat in furious rage

But, they do not rise.

Flying is to travel yet beating is to win

Already time is passing, passing through a din.

Perhaps there was a smile to wear,

But I was hurting, no love to share

Heads are meant to look at and hear from and see there and smell some

Do that which is seemly and always seen

But thoughts behind and in between

Are never seen unless they’re said

And I never said

What I could’ve said

But I should’ve.

Because flight is to raise and beat is to fall.

And heads that are raised look on with hope

And heads that have fallen have hit the wall

Wonder lost, will lost

Will to think that they deserve it.

No matter how great the cost.

These quiet halls, these rowdy halls

They’re all the same

In class, in stalls

I struggle, others struggles

Our wings bent and feathers muddled

Flight denied us because there was

One look

One word

One stare

And the flight of that bird-

That one that had heard

It wasn’t good enough-

Laid bare

Misery took.

Silent to the world.

There is a quiet here within

I’ve heard it cry when I can’t win

But it’s shrieked the most when words weren’t said

Kept inside behind my lips

For pain is plural, with multiple hosts

And the only ghost

Was the one I made

When I was one

One plus one once was two

For things like this though

Pain and silence

One plus one remains as one

Mutual fate, said and done.

Don’t be done. Don’t say over.

Somewhere there is a four-leaved clover

Say something new

Something kind

Be the person you have in mind

Even if that mind is dark

Dreadful, cold, nothing new

Giving warmth provides its own

So one plus one can equal two.