Pain is Beauty
To Hate Yourself
I have found beauty in all things,
Well, maybe not all… but many,
I have found it in love,
In friendship,
In pleasure,
And particularly in pain,
In life
And death
Even in anger,
hatred,
And even on occasion perceived vengeance,
I have even found beauty in self loathing,
I have realized that there is nothing more beautiful than the emotions we harbour for ourselves,
However, they may come or as they may be…
One thing I have still failed to see beauty in,
Is the hatred the ones I love harbour in their hearts for themselves,
Their lack of self value because they believe they are undeserving,
The loss of confidence and the look of failure in their eyes,
Although I see beauty in the way humans perceive themselves,
There is no beauty in watching one cave in,
Like iron, writhing beneath it’s core,
There is no beauty in seeing someone in so much pain,
That the only beauty they see is death,
There is no colour in a world that is colour blind,
There is no beauty when there is death WITHOUT life,
There is no beauty when one only sees life as a contingent death,
There is no beauty when one does not value their life as highly as they do their death,
When they only find peace in their realizing that someday their pain will end,
Pain is supposed to be beautiful,
But only when it is felt,
Pain is what keeps us alive,
it is the force that causes us to understand why we breath,
It is that itch, in the bottom of your foot as it begins to fall asleep,
That jolt that awakens you when you fall in a dream,
The earache that warns you when you are coming on with a cold,
or even the scratch at the back of your throat,
The pain when you forget to breath, and your eyes begin to close,
THOSE THINGS are beautiful,
Pain is a mechanism to remind us that we are worthy of life,
Not that we are only alive to die…
There is no beauty at the end of that barrel,
or at the edge of that razor blade,
Or even from the tension in the rope or belt,
When it is only in ruin of yourself,
There is beauty at the bottom of the ocean,
But not when there is no air in your lungs,
or vision in your eyes,
There is beauty in a silver bullet,
But not when it is lodged in the back of your skull,
There is beauty in the precise blade of a razor,
but not when it is laced with crimson,
You see perceived beauty is as depressing as death,
For it is up to you to find beauty in things,
Not all negative things cannot contain light,
For you need light to perceive a shadow,
In order to find beauty in life,
You must find it in death,
However, not in your death,
Just the idea,
For you see,
As beauty is just a concept,
So is death
And it is with that,
That I see beauty in ALL things,
Well, not all, but many...
I have recently been in a state of dismay, and I wrote this a while ago - I guess I'm just feeling lethargic.
