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.
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