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PAIN,,
I believed in the process,
not smooth and pleasant,
neither good nor horrible,
I sought a journey of healing,
A journey of roses I suppose.

What can cure a man's rage,
must one trust in the process of aging,
A monk once traced self awareness,
he came up with what he thought,
and meditation was his cure.

My rage quite vibrant,
that even the process of meditation I hate,
I was once in school ,
and they flogged me to fit in,
but I could only take in vengeance.

They took me to be possessed,
and sought in the process of exorcism,
it was horrible and I hated the preacher,
and there a wrath of man build up,
I became more violent .

All I was seeking was peace,
After what she did to me,
she promised me love,
only lay in another's bed,
I know what my mind captured.

© Bradley