Its Pain The Poet Shares Poem by Saint Cynosure

Its pain from past,
its pain that last,
its pain that's passed him by.
Its pain of words,
he wants for heard,
that's rarely read,
but why?
Its pain of life,
felt more than twice,
its pain that breaks him down.
He knows no cure,
one things for sure,
its pain that he has found.
Its pain of grins,
its where he's been,
Its beauty he must share.
And twist with ink,
the pain he thinks,
to color up his square.
Its pain the poet shares...