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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=496039" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Those Pains</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=496039" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">we finally situate<br>beyond the threshold of pain<br>we sit on a chair<br>look over the window<br>extend our view to the sea<br>till the horizon<br>we familiarize with what<br>pains too do<br>with the shores and the<br>forest<br>the trees and the<br>grass<br>then we look again inward<br>like the entrails of <br>the chicken<br>we feel nothing anymore<br>those pains have <br>become a part of our skin<br>they don't do any harm<br>anymore<br>we don't even notice<br>whether they are still here<br>or they are gone<br>for good forever</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Ric+S.+Bastasa">Ric S. Bastasa</a></strong></div>