It's not all the same.

But pain is pain.

It's the same, yet it's not the same. 

Why do we compare our pain to others?

Or try to reach that level of agony?

Jealous of another person's level of suffering.

Of another's heartache.

What is this?

We should cry for their sake, never wanting to go where they did.

Draw back from that path.

But no.

We compare our scars, as we compare our stories.

Is this right? 

But each story is special.

Like a spider's web.

Each is unique, yet utterly beautiful once complete.

So stop comparing your hurt to others, because hurt is hurt to all. 

The End

64 comments about this poem Feed