How proud are we of our Suffering?
Do we wear it with a flourish?
Hoist high the crown of thorns
And place it venerably on our heads.
Does our chest swell with pride?
As we neither flinch nor wince
And hear the sighs of wonder
At our valour and stoic ness
Do we compare the thorns?
And see if mine prick harder
And compete in a pageant of pain
To see who emerges stronger?
Do we silently mock?
As we wipe others’ tears
Scoffing at their softness
While whispering soothing ayes?
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