Pain has an element of blank;
It cannot recollect
When it began, or if there were
A day when it was not.
It has no future but itself,
Its infinite realms contain
Its past, enlightened to perceive
New periods of pain.
The Mystery Of Pain.
Emily Elizabeth Dickinson
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Poem topics: future, infinite, Valentine's Day, perceive, pain, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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