Pain is a fickle thing,
However it may be,
Pain remains a little ring,
On the finger of us all.

The lamb and the wolf,
A desperate coupling.
Doomed to die,
From this fickle ring.

A passing,
To and fro,
Shall this monster rise,
Or the pain grow?

No one knows,
Except for pain,
Ill repute and ill treatment,
Gut wrenching torment.

Pain is felt in all things,
Whether it be physical,
Or mental.
Pain remains a fickle thing.

The wolf has its jaws,
The lamb its cries,
It reaches out with its claws,
The other dies.

Pain is a lesson,
Of what will soon become.
People say to press on,
While death says 'come on'.

Who will we listen to,
The teacher or the inevitable?
Why not both?

Pain remains a fickle teacher,
A morbid preacher.
It teaches us all,
Harms all it finds.

But remember without life,
There can be no pain.
And those without pain,
Can no longer gain.
Nor can they no longer refrain,
From life's grains.

Requiescet in pace...