Could Loneliness bear the taste
of heartache I partake in?
(I bet he has never tried such
perverse, bitter tastes in his entirety)
Could Hurt bear the sight
of pain I apprehend?
(I wager he has never descried
such obscene scenes in his entire life)
Could Sadness bear to feel
the sorrow I was mauled by?
(I daresay he has never
been maimed by such gilt-edged blades)
Could Loss bear to smell the stench
of emptiness I smell?
(I venture he never had a whiff of such
repulsive, sickening odours)
Could Fear bear to auscultate
the terror I heard screaming?
(I swear he has never suffered through
such chill-shuddering, wilting torments)
Indeed, I am no superman; for no heart,
extraordinary, could bear my flogging.
I am mere mortal, the epitome of weakness,
bearing the imposing scourge of Divinity's wrath
On this lonesome, brittle back of mine.
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