I know you have been asking
That question of old
Of the troubles with days passing
Of the horrors untold
They told you to be strong
Told you not to be in haste
Yet you never did belong
In this mindless, unfair place
Yours is the joy as the early ray of the rising sun
Meets the leaf resounding peaceful green
But as you have been and are; but a man
Comes with it all the grim you have seen
The pain of death and loss and tragedy
The void from holding on to the happier days gone
Know that this is no malady
For pain is a battle, and not all battles should be won
For if life is a battle, then life is pain
There is therefore no need to pretend
That we do not pray for the rain
And beg that question, "When does it end?".