I hurt

I was programmed, like you
To treasure my life
To flinch at the slightest pain
And dread the doctor’s needle

A cut, like any others’, bleeds
And burns to the tendon
A drown draws a gasp likewise
Burning the throat raw

A sharp unkind word hurts too
And sometimes draws a tear
A hate is a stab to the heart
Bleeding tears of sorrow

I weep when in grief
And hurt at memories gone
I dread the loss of a loved one
And mourn the departed

I hurt.

© GIDRAF MWANGI