You spend most of your life feeling everything with intensity – like the chafing of a raw cut.
Your eyes pay the price of their negligence, they pay in pearls scavenged from your soul’s deepest caverns
And you pray to Him to just please, please make this go away.
Once it’s dulled, once you no longer feel, once the tears wither away, once you’re entirely dead inside,
You wonder, whether you should thank Him
or complain to Him.