Measured Pain


Like clockwork, its there.

Upon every awakening morning.

The only reliable thing

in this life.

Deliberate and premeditated.

Calculated and systematic.

Its attack is always precise.

The effect, always intentional.

It moves through my body

in exacting course.

Accuratly pinpointing

the weakest places.

Of its own free-will,

this measured pain,

consciously and methodically abuses,

to un-measurable degrees of itself.

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