the system.

my stomach aches.
i fear the all familiar dull pain.
then the knives. and then the fire.
and the nausea, and tightness.
i fear the return of this-
my little friend,
my little piece of agony.

yet, she keeps my mind quiet.
she whispers to me,
to stop my grieving,
to quiet my self pity.
she returns me to reality, the way her cousins do.
those agents of pain, that family of hurt.
they ground me in my present.
they force me inward.
they help me to find my soul again.

maybe it's all a process.
it's the way this god works.

to present a challenge; to fail; to fall to pain due to this failure; to have the pain cause insight; to heal the self.

yes, it must be.
there is no other reason.
and without a reason, there musn't be cause.
but there is.
it's be-cause...

wait, what is it be-cause of?