It's Like
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It's like an execution of a murder-due to happen, totally just, and not under my control.
But it hurts.
Like a tumor in the back of my brain, unnoticed like it suddenly pops and is scattered through all my nerves, shutting off function.
Like watching a documentary about torture, and feeling sorrow, with no way to help it.
Seeing someone having fun, dancing, not knowing that each time they flail their arms they stab someone in the heart.
Having a train stop on the track, because of an unknown change in the terrain, and stopping for days or weeks to adjust its wheels just to move on.
Throwing away a piece of your puzzle, because it cluttered their floor.
Knowing that now you feel alone, incomplete, while they no longer mourn, whilst they even celebrate,
That is pain.
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