A sort of private poison,

***

Tears stained with their laughter,
victory and your defeat
He tells you, "Don't cry," but
why is that warmth and
that wetness, such relief?

Their gay voices dancing
in your head, round a bonfire
singing their tales of you
"Don't listen to them," he says,
when they sing the truth.

Sometimes I wonder:
what do they gain
by tearing you apart?
What do you gain
by tearing you apart?

You can defeat them but
each dawn, in equal proportion
hope and despair comes.
In life, there are no limits
and pain is no exception.