It’s easy to write about pain,
though pain often is the result of a beautiful hope,
in something unknown, in something new,
yet wise enough to see what is you, and not be afraid.

Fear can also be pain, innocence lost,
stepping without seeing carries too great a cost,
yet we still sometimes do, it can enliven, renew us,
’til we come down from the high, and face what is up against us –

Hurdles with others, hurdles with self,
we can say sorry later, but the magic has left;
at least that’s what we try and convince ourselves of –
One strike and you’re out, I can’t try out your love
because others had endless strikes given them,
and look where it got me? this mental prison,
where I’m wanting to love,
but I can’t figure out how,
so I guess the right time,
just isn’t right now.

Emily ©