Pain Is Plural

I see my mem’ries of the day
With spoken words I’ve ceased to say
Reflecting on the sights of what I saw and could not do
What I saw and could not fight
What I saw and never knew
Why could I never try to
Meet the call and give a light
Take my flight or solve a plight
Already time is passing by
On wings of eagles that will not fly
Wings that beat in furious rage
But, they do not rise.
Flying is to travel yet beating is to win
Already time is passing, passing through a din.
Perhaps there was a smile to wear,
But I was hurting, no love to share
Heads are meant to look at and hear from and see there and smell some
Do that which is seemly and always seen
But thoughts behind and in between
Are never seen unless they’re said
And I never said
What I could’ve said
But I should’ve.
Because flight is to raise and beat is to fall.
And heads that are raised look on with hope
And heads that have fallen have hit the wall
Wonder lost, will lost
Will to think that they deserve it.
No matter how great the cost.
These quiet halls, these rowdy halls
They’re all the same
In class, in stalls
I struggle, others struggles
Our wings bent and feathers muddled
Flight denied us because there was
One look
One word
One stare
And the flight of that bird-
That one that had heard
It wasn’t good enough-
Laid bare
Misery took.
Silent to the world.
There is a quiet here within
I’ve heard it cry when I can’t win
But it’s shrieked the most when words weren’t said
Kept inside behind my lips
For pain is plural, with multiple hosts
And the only ghost
Was the one I made
When I was one
One plus one once was two
For things like this though
Pain and silence
One plus one remains as one
Mutual fate, said and done.
Don’t be done. Don’t say over.
Somewhere there is a four-leaved clover
Say something new
Something kind
Be the person you have in mind
Even if that mind is dark
Dreadful, cold, nothing new
Giving warmth provides its own
So one plus one can equal two.