I used to believe I knew pain.
Over the years, I have had my share of heartaches.
I have loved, and I have lost.
I have spent moment that couldn't afford the cost
of the tears they reaped.
I have given up dreams.
I have let opportunity seep through my palms
and silently remained calm,
until I could lock myself in the sadness of my soul,
and allow depression to chill me to the bone.
I have felt my insides scrape of all incentive to rise.
I have wandered crowds of laughter like a ghost.
Floating, drifting, barely there, as light as a feather,
so heavy in this torture I am tethered.
I have buried loved ones,
cast flowers on graves, seen setting suns
upon my paradise.
I have lived a life.
I used to believe I was brave.
I used to believe I would not cave
to anything else the journey through at me,
for my time in sorrow was complete.
I used to believe I knew pain,
I used to believe I understood what it meant to lose and gain,
until the day you looked at me and said
I should go,
for I no longer made you happy anymore.