Pain You Won't Understand Poem by The Raven

In the shadows of withered hopes,
where whispers coil like smoke in corners,
thoughts twist like vines, both sharp and sweet,
their thorns hidden, but ever lingers.

You stand outside, a watchful tree,
your roots in soil of unspoken fears,
while I'm a storm in a teacup,
turbulence brewing, hidden tears.

What seems like calm is a cracked mirror,
reflecting suns that barely rise,
where light plays tricks, and echoes dance,
and pain wears a guise of sweet disguise.

In this garden of tangled thorns,
each bloom hides a story, lush yet stark,
to read the petals is to tread softly,
for beauty and sorrow are shades in the dark.