How many deaths does it take before we’ve experienced suffering?

How many cuts and scrapes before we understand pain?

How many people have to scorn us before we can admit to being neglected?

How much blood does it take before society admits we are hurt?

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Is life a grand battle of who has suffered more than whom?

What a horrible contest to win.

And what would be awarded to the victor?

Perhaps a trophy.

Congratulations for putting up with all the crap life has dealt you. You are hereby welcome to complain whenever you deem it necessary.

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It all seems like a big sham to me.

What about those of us who haven’t experienced as many hardships as the next?

Are we…not worthy of sadness?

Not worthy to cry over our pains, even if they are measly?

Can we not scream with pain as we stub our toe when others have lost entire limbs?

Do our pains not matter?

Are they as unimportant as that ant we just squished?

What are we to do?

Crawl into a hole until something horrible happens to us so that we may be worthy to join society?

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I don’t mean to undermine the major sufferings of others.

Rather, I know of a few people who have scorned he who has not dealt with “great trials.”

It is as though it is his fault he has not suffered by their standards.

So, what is he to do?

Cut off an arm to gain approval?

No one can win like that.

By judging worth through pain.

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How, then, do we measure suffering?

By how much blood lost?

How many tears shed?

How many bones broken?

Perhaps such grisly measurements are not the answer.

Perhaps, to measure in the fairest way, we need not count the physical bruises.

Instead, maybe we need to open our hearts to be able to see not what the pain means to us, but how it has affected them.

That, I believe, is how to measure suffering.

I realize now that this is more of a rant than poetry. Whoops! I suppose I shouldn't have posted this after all, then...but I really wanted to share my views with you all, so I decided to keep it. :)