Flung Pain

the hurtful fling their pain
through the
sticks stones slurs
they hurl at others

- like in a game of tag -
that the pain will go away

but relief is fleeting
for the pain does not shake loose
it divides like a cell
half expanding to claim its old home

half becoming new-grown chunks
stuck like flung mud on the victim
where it waits in dark quiet places
crusting and hardening,
itching to be flung itself

the flinging circle must be broken
to still these hatchlings of a battered heart

Harry W. Yeatts Jr.