The Hopes of the Hopeless

Whispers and secrets
Cut me like a knife.
This is pain I feel often,
It is my friend, and yet,
It is pain still.

I have seen the reflection
of myself as a black flower
amidst a field of pink
and yellow, these happy colors
that look down on me, mock me.

The pain in this world
Is overwhelming like the Black Death.
And yet,
There is beauty in it still,
Beauty in all the eye can see.

Tears mix with blood to create
A substance that might erase
The strains and the stains
Of a hurting world
If only, if only…