You don’t know pain, you haven’t seen his eyes:
You haven’t seen a young boy’s innocence die.
You haven’t heard the sound of crushing dreams,
And the fear in his heart as nothing is what it seems.
Pain isn’t real until you’ve been through hell.
‘Til you’ve given it all and have nothing left to tell.
No, you don’t know pain. You haven’t lost.
You haven’t searched for God, no matter the cost.
There are no scars marked upon your thoughts,
No moments of weakness because of battles you fought.
But pain isn’t the end, it’s not what kills.
It’s the memory of doubt from swallowing six pills.
Damn, Mark… You really are hell bent on changing the entire emotional composition of my day every time I stalk you… Also...