Poetry

There is something that hurts but you don't feel the pain,
There is something that stings, but you call it rain.
When something is wrong, you shrug and move on,
so when it gets good, you're already gone.
You can't have good times,
without the bad,
and in pain and misery,
are the best I ever had.
I think it wonderful, but you may think it sad.

In the darkness, hides a light,
this light is one that shines all too bright,
and first it stings, and hurts the eyes,
then you welcome it and hold it close,
and it lets you know, that the darkness is near,
but not on your face is there a single tear,
for though the bad times are ending,
the best are already here.