365 Days · Poetry

130 – The Bruise

The only way through pain is to
Feel every agonising interlude
One beauty of misery is that art
Resides buried in breaking hearts
And the other side is marked
By the tiniest of hopeful sparks
Sometimes the end is a good thing
Overdue ceasefire from suffering
While it hurts at times to be alive
A heart already knows how to survive
So the process can run its course
And begin bringing out the bruise

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