Spike (an acrostic poem)

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So many thorns that he couldn’t touch without being pricked intimidated him

Perhaps that was what was intended, but he wouldn’t let that deter him

It just made the pursuit of that simple touch that much more exciting

Knowing one false move, one wrong twitch would leave him sore and bleeding

Except when he finally got through and she smiled… it was worth all the pain

Pain (an acrostic poem)

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Putting the code on the robot, he expected it to work

As it was only supposed to blink the LED as a proof of concept

It did that, so now to add the code he really wanted to work

Nope, that part dies.  Nice try.  Now back to the drawing board

Pain (an acrostic poem)

Punished at the speed of thought

As her mental sea exploded with wave after wave

Intensity so high she had to close her eyes and grit her teeth

Nerves fried, she fled into the oblivion of darkness hoping to find relief

Stitch (an acrostic poem)

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Systematic suturing of her emotional wounds

The pain of sewing the gash to her psyche was almost unbearable

It continued to throb years later, but the echoes of the horrific laceration kept getting weaker

They left the itch of wanting to see if she had healed enough yet

Cutting loose and pulling out each piece of mental floss

Her battle scar, now exposed, made her proud of not only surviving but healing

Cell (an acrostic poem)

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Corruption pulsed within his veins energizing his desire to do wrong

Extracting money from the misery and oppression around him

Leaving him to live a life of luxury built upon the pain of others

Losing his soul bit by bit behind the bars of inhumanity

Pain (an acrostic poem)

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Push your body past its self-imposed limits

And suffer the wrath of muscle, bone, and sinew

It can be mitigated by medication, but

Nothing will change what you feel, both short term and long, except for time.

Knife (an acrostic poem)

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Knowing you would keep stabbing me in my back

Never helped in the past and yet

If I didn’t go through that personal hell I wouldn’t be where I am

Finally free of the pain of your sharp slices that cut me down

Enabling me to fly away on angel’s wings

Pain (an acrostic poem)

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Punishing waves of agony crash along your nerves

And as they recede they leave riptides of aches behind

It makes it difficult to breathe, to think

Now you wonder if you can tough it out, or if this time it will break you

Contrast (an acrostic poem)

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Cold, cold logic sets fire to my imagination

Oblivious to the pain, I draw out tears of joy

Nothing can stop me but myself

That’s what makes creating so hard.  It’s destroying simple things

Reaching the basic elements and then building complex structures on them

Always digging deeper and climbing higher

Searching for the thing that is always with you

That is the war of the abstract and realism that defines me