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Dirty Nails Hide Clean Slate
May 6, 2010
Pain
I remember when pain
Used to mean something.
The tears would fall
Like rain drops
On dirty windowsills
In the early waning
stages of a
joyless Spring.
I could enjoy
Pain,
Suffering,
All that good stuff.
Now,
It’s just more white noise,
There’s no feeling
In a wound.
Or at least,
There’s no wounds
That can’t be healed.
And that just makes
It all the more
Painless.
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