Pain dresses elegantly.
In his right hand
he holds a bright pin
with which his pops
bubbles of hope
until nothing is left.
Pain dresses elegantly.
He leaves nothing but an elegant emptiness
for the soul to walk through.
Elegance without the luxury of faith
is the only parachute
for this free fall.
Pain dresses elegantly.
In his left hand he carries
the simple cross of the Truth.
Pain dresses elegantly.
It is the pain of the Truth
walking through this place
filled with silver plated bubbles,
candid bubbles that explode
with a final gleam
a gleam of farewell tears.
Pain dresses elegantly.
Hope, my old friend,
goodbye, goodbye, goodbye.
--Lorena Lobita Wolfman © 2009-2010
