Pain, oh what is pain?
Be it being apart from a love
On a cold winters day?

Is it the dampened pillow,
Washed over by the tears
Of a person whose heart is broken?

Is it a wound that will never close,
A cut that hasn't scabbed,
And is washed out with salt?

Or is it something much more,
Something that will never end,
Something you cannot see,
And hopefully can scarcely imagine?

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