Pain is a border post
sometimes a fence, sometimes a wall
against which I sometimes lean

fearing for my life
I can only sing
for myself, not to drown

in blues, raise my voice
and keep dancing
while I'm not dead

I rather sweat and stink
of misery than do nothing
and long and sigh

sadly, looking around for light days
without pain, the border crossed
or pulled down by my Mojo