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Friday, July 16, 2004

Poem - We are Admired

In the morning your
pain sensitizes me
for the day, already
a failure before breakfast.

We are admired for the pain
we deny existence.  Believing
it doesn't hurt, earns us medals.

Push past the wall; play through
the pain.  Give voice to the
primal; scream the pain away.

On the battlefield, on the
playing field, the dead
have more to give.

Pick that man up, dust him
off, and send him out again.

You and I do this everyday;
it is an old, old idea that
every step should ache.

And it gets older every day.
Push past the wall;
play through the pain.

Give voice to the devil;
yell the pain away.
Your brain will explode
from a lifetime of pain.

The flesh will decay
as you lay in your grave.
The soul is blinded by hurt.
But embedded in your stone
will be gold-plate medals.

Push past the death;
play through the pain.
Give voice to the hurt;
cry the pain away.
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