Pain is an isolation
That sunders man from man;
A deft and deep incision
That severs all it can.
The steel of its slim scalpel
So delicate is turned;
Before you scent the fire
Your bridges have all burned.
With stroke precise and sparing,
It cuts the good away;
it purges green and growing
to fertilize decay.
Thus man succumbs to monster,
Selfish beast of pride;
The cruelest sting is knowing
it but freed what was inside.
