It is hard to salve pain

It is hard to salve pain

When it hides

Beneath the surface.

Weeping into the space

Between times.

Seeping across layers

Of memories

Laid low,

Squashed by a weight

Of history

And disrupting

The smooth transition

Of feelings.

It is a barrier

To new connections.

Creating

A corruption that festers

With interference.

Happiness is a fleeting

Intolerance,

Dissolved

Before it is discovered.

Pain, hidden,

Exists to

Protect the deepest hollow.

The hole,

That blackens your heart

With a vacuum,

Subsumed by the bleakest

Taste of fear.

And every sweet spasm

Numbs the chance

Of correction.

As it continues to dwell

Within the nucleus

Of every mutant cell,

It develops

A deterrent against growth

And new direction.

Miring itself

In a deep well of guilt,

It denies any foundation

To the construction

Of a new bridge,

Built from hope.

A bridge

That would span the tears

In the fabric

You have used

To cover your soul.