What I knew of it in the past
the torture of it
it is of no relief
or sometimes false relief
Before the next bout of suffering
That it is prolonged
And comes to destroy us in many forms
from the seeds in the heart and mind
Clubbering us with speed doubt
false urgency and disappointment
The torture of it unrelenting
proving us to be victims and cowards
To an outside world that only appears
as a sadistic laughing audience
Yet the strong have taken this very route
Even as we feel mocked and exiled
The power to walk onward
To continue not loving pain
but with every fiber
That tiny nugget of faith
No matter the terror
continue with a gram of good
A pinch of defiance
a nugget of faith
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