ninjatuner

It's no coincidence, nor is it any secret, that pain moves downward. It only makes sense.
Swirling through your thoughts at night as you can't sleep, marking your forehead, creasing your brow, and blackening your eyes.
Then it attacks your mouth, drooping the corners and marring your speech.
Placing an ache in your collarbone, dipping to wring your stomach like a charcoal sponge.
Jumping to your knees, dropping you to your knees; before, finally, it lets you stand again,
And then, only then, does it return to its home in hell through your feet, throbbing.