Hurt

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Hurt hails from a hidden hollow we haven’t heaved open within ourselves,

A realm we recklessly refuse to roam, a region we revile more than any other recess of our riddled psyche.

We shun hurt, sometimes subconsciously, until it erupts unexpectedly from our souls like a flea fleeing from red festered flesh.

We yearn to yield to hurt, we yearn to yield to ourselves, solely to sunshine and shun the shadows of sorrow, suffering, and the sting of hurt that leaves you languishing in a lagoon of liquid lamentations.

Hurt hatches hideous hues, sometimes anger, but often an ache that abides only with the passage of time.

Hurt, however, holds hidden harmony, though it may sound like a step back. It’s a boon to bear hurt, to brave those bittersweet aching emotions, to know you possess a pulsing soul and the poignant sensations that render you so profoundly human.

So, the next time you nurse a nagging hurt, nestle in the knowledge of your own humanity.