The Painkiller’s Singing

Pain is the only real
Reason for real grieving—
It’s how loss makes you feel,
How tortured your breathing,
Worst when there’s no appeal,
No drug that’s relieving,
When you’re tumbling downhill
Still not quite believing,
When you’re crushed by pain’s heel
And angry, and seething,
And the pain makes a meal
Of all you believed in.
Simple pain is all steel.
You’re only the bleeding.