I know what pain looks like

I know the tears that come from bloodshed

I know the heartache of loving and losing

I know the scratches that show up from bended knees at pulpits

I know the dark marks that are seen on prostrated foreheads

I know the scars that are carried by paleros

I know the blood trickle from the heads of santeros

I know vaguely the tranquil state of monks

I know sadly the wickedness of man

I know… which is why I hurt

Hurt

©Axel Garcia