There are two kinds of hurt. One is immediate, earth-shattering You wail, scream Weep for the person beyond measure When the self-pity ends, You pick yourself up, Oneday. Other one is slow and steady Creeping up on you when you least expect it. And when it arrives, It leaves back nothing in it's wake. Enveloping you in darkness It neither has an end nor a beginning Only a constant rhythm of hurt flowing through your veins. I don't know which is worse.