My unwashed thoughts. Straight from the soul. Not nessasarily based on reality.




The Mystery of Pain

by: Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)



Pain has an element of blank;
It cannot recollect
When it began, or if there were
A day when it was not.

It has no future but itself,
Its infinite realms contain
Its past, enlightened to perceive
New periods of pain.



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